Rescue
by Aria Marier
Summary: FINISHED JouxSeto. Kaiba is a man who stands alone, but when he is in trouble, who will rescue him? PG-13 for language and some sexual contentsuicide imagery. Who needs who here?
1. Routines

Aria: Hello all! After a bit of a hiatus (damn that writer's block!), I've come up with a new idea for my favorite couple, Seto and Jou. For those of you out there who can't stand reading another Seto/Jou fic, well, I suggest you either leave now or do yourself a favor and gouge out your own eyes, because it isn't going to stop me from writing Seto/Jou.  
  
Bakura: *grumbles* You stole my line.  
  
Aria: *looks back* Oops. Sorry.  
  
Bakura: *grumbles* Like anyone would find YOU intimidating.  
  
Aria: Well...some people do.  
  
Bakura: You're joking.  
  
Aria: Yes. Anyway, here's my disclaimer. I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, and I probably never will. Unless those plans for world domination work out...  
  
Marik: Shut up and write.  
  
Aria: Okay, fine. The premise for this story is that even though it IS a Seto/Jou fic, there's no law saying it has to be a clichŽd Seto/Jou. Ergo, none of this Seto rescuing Jou from his horrible family life, etc. There's a lot of merit in some of those fics, but I'm not interested in exploring that option. Rather, maybe Seto is the one who needs to be rescued. After all, he was abused as a child, then had to take on the company all by himself, and, let's face it, the boy is so repressed it's amazing he can still function. So, enjoy. And beware high ratings for angst/suicide imagery/possible lemons.   
  
Chapter 1 Routines  
  
The wind whipped around him, dragging at his arms, his legs like a lover, teasing at his coat, pulling at his clothes. How easy to just fall, to let go into the loving cold wind, out and away and down and out and down...  
  
"Oh god."  
  
The sheets were tangled around his legs, wrapped securely around his waist. The silky feel of fabric was binding him, enfolding him---no. He levered himself up onto his hands, sitting up in the dark, and ran his hand back through sweaty, sleep-mussed hair.  
  
Too hot.  
  
No wonder he was having nightmares, in this heat. He could feel his heart just starting to slow back down, thudding heavily in his chest.  
  
He disliked heat. It made him lose control. He much preferred things to be cold, calm, iced over and solid. He got up and walked over to the window, unlatched it, pushed it out and took a deep breath of the icy air that rushed in. He stayed in front of the window until he could feel his skin cooling, could feel his blood slow its mad rush through his body, felt his mind slow from its previous panic and return to the cool darkness.  
  
He collapsed back on his bed and threw the sheets back over himself, cool, now, from air flowing over them. His eyes closed, and his breathing steadied. In the morning, it would be a fuzzy idea of something that might have happened in the deep of night, and he would give it no thought.   
  
And he would give that dream no thought as well.  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep. Wake up, the alarm shrieked, beeping away steadily louder and louder. He snaked his hand out from under the covers and searched blindly for the OFF button. He pressed it, and the room went silent. Blue showed sleepily between cracked eyelids as he looked over toward the alarm.   
  
Six.   
  
He moved his hand back under his pillow, wishing for time to turn back so he could sleep more, but when he looked again, the only change was that it was now 6:03 instead. He groaned into his pillow and shook himself up, supporting himself with one hand while the other rubbed his eyes and ran through his hair. He got up, padded across the room to his dresser.  
  
Splash.  
  
The cold water shocked him at first, as always, but he kept moving, exhaling clear bubbles of air into the blue pool water. One lap. Four laps. Ten laps. Sixteen. Twenty.  
  
He hung by an arm at the side of the pool and checked the time. Almost six-thirty. He hoisted himself up and out, dripping and shivering even in the heated pool area, grabbed a towel.   
  
Showered, dressed, and fully awake, he walked down the long hallway and knocked at a door.  
  
No answer.  
  
He knocked harder and opened the door a crack.  
  
A muffled groan and the small clump of sheets and comforter flipped over. He smiled.  
  
"Time to get up, Mokuba."  
  
"No way," came the sleepy answer. "I've got another fifteen minutes. I think."  
  
"Not a chance, little brother," he said. "Breakfast will be ready when you get up and get dressed. It's past seven already."  
  
"Mmph."  
  
He grinned and closed the door.  
  
"You and your schedules," Mokuba said, adding a sausage to his plate. "I bet you have this place better run than most governments."  
  
"Very probably," Seto replied. "But they only have to deal with the grand scheme of things, whereas I am faced with the near-impossibilty of getting you out of bed and to school everyday."  
  
Mokuba grimaced at his eggs.  
  
Stepping out of the car at the schoolyard, his coat whipped in the wind and he had a sudden sense of vertigo. The world tipped drunkenly before him, around him---his fingers tightened involuntarily on the handle of his briefcase and then---  
  
It passed. He almost blushed, having been caught with such a weakness, but waved the driver away instead.  
  
"Whoa!"  
  
"What---!"  
  
He was knocked off his feet and stumbled forward as someone tripped into his back. And judging by that yelp---  
  
"Really, Wheeler," he said coldly, turning around and brushing his coat back into place. "If you can't control those huge feet of yours, you should learn to walk on all fours."  
  
The boy flushed wildly. Heat, thought Seto with some amusement. See how it devours you, Wheeler. This is why you never are a match for me. That heat takes control...  
  
He folded his arms and glared.  
  
"Joey! Come on, we'll be late for class." He hesitated, glared back at Seto, and ran off to join his friends.  
  
Seto almost grinned. It was just another part of the daily ritual. God forbid it skip a day.  
  
Classes bored him. He typed through the day, handed in assignments, answered questions, but his mind was elsewhere. His business. His brother. New and interesting insults for Wheeler. He laughed to himself. A dig for every occasion. Like Hallmark cards.  
  
Then he got the message, and a cold wind seemed to sweep the room. The vertigo was back, only this time it wouldn't leave, wouldn't leave him alone. He fought it, tried to stop it but the feeling of falling was too strong and he---  
  
Message  
To: skaiba@kaibacorp.com  
From: diamente@dragongame.net  
Re: problem  
You're in trouble. Alice has hit the bottom of the rabbit-hole, the honey-moon is over, they're playing hardball. Get out while you can.  
  
And a link. A link to a breaking story about the company---his company---about fraud, about insider trading, about money, about power. Not about him, personally, but if he wasn't the company, then who was he?  
  
Mokuba. What would this do to Mokuba?  
  
He called up the company schematics on his computer, sent a message to every employee and consultant he could think of. He had to get to the bottom of this before the press did or---  
  
Or what? He'd be ruined? Wasn't he already ruined? Even if it wasn't true---and he knew it wasn't, because, after all, he was KaibaCorp---the media would grab onto it. The company would be tarnished. Everything he'd worked for, ever, was being systematically shot down.  
  
The messages sent, he closed his computer and stared blankly ahead, his mind going down and around in never-ending circular thoughts.  
  
He almost didn't notice when someone tripped over his out-stretched legs.  
  
"Whoa---I---ow!" A thud. He noticed that his shins hurt, and he looked down, bemused. Joey sat on the floor, a look of first---panic?---in his eyes and then the usual fight flooded him with a flush. He stood up, towering over the still-seated Seto, ready to fight.  
  
He still stood there, surprised, when Kaiba swept his computer into his briefcase, stood up, and walked quickly away without a word.  
  
No way. No way was he going to let that arrogant prick get up and walk away after all the insults, all the fights. He ran after Kaiba, grabbed his shoulder.  
  
"What, just going to walk off? No insults? No fights? Can't think of anything? Cat got your tongue, Mr. CEO?"  
  
The look of fear in his eyes struck him deep. He felt it pierce like ice---it was getting hard to breathe. His ribcage felt too small. Those blue eyes fascinated him. He took a step forward, Kaiba took a step back.  
  
He watched warily as Joey got closer. Closer. The heat was there, it would burn, he was unprotected. The last thing he could deal with was a conflict between them---he feared he wouldn't be able to win.   
  
And he had to win.  
  
Didn't he?  
  
"Kaiba..."  
  
He fled.  
  
Aria: Okay, so...comments, please? I realize this is kind of a weird story so far, but please bear with me. I have the feeling it will have a lot of editing before it's done. Suggestions, comments, critiques are very welcome. Flames, however, I will use to heat tea-water. You've been warned. 


	2. Change

Aria: Excellent. I'm glad that people seem to like the trend of this story so far. Which is good, because I love writing Seto/Jou and it makes me sad that so many people think there aren't interesting situations out there for them anymore.  
  
Bakura: That's because they AREN'T interesting, fool.  
  
Aria: Quiet, Bakura, or I'll write one about you next.  
  
Bakura: *pales*  
  
Yami: *considers* Huh. I didn't think that could happen, with YOUR skin tone, Bakura.  
  
Bakura: I hate you all.  
  
Aria: Yes, well. First, to my reviewers!  
  
Misura: I think Joey is cute most of the time...and that seemed like something that would happen to him! I love thinking about the characters reactions to specific problems. I'm glad you like it so far!  
  
Oklina: *blush* You're too kind. I hope you like this next chapter.  
  
Angel of pure darkness: Here it is. Enjoy!  
  
Dillon: Under your rec, I joined A_Dragons_Lair. And please no hedgehogs...what if they chewed off my fingers and I could no longer type?  
  
Lone Wolf55: Thanks! Have fun with this one.  
  
DorothyWhainright: I don't know about all that *blush* but I'm glad you like it. Hope you enjoy this chapter.  
  
Tammi1: Not too weird? Excellent. I like this approach too. Thanks for putting me on your favorite stories.  
  
Kimi no vanilla: I know---I'm sick of Jou being the "girl" and Kaiba being the "guy" all the time. Jou's got personality too, dammit! Thanks for the review.  
  
Hoshi: Sure. Here it is.  
  
Aria: Alright, upwards and onwards! Disclaimer; I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, but hopefully once those mergers take place...  
  
Two  
  
Walking rapidly down the crowded hall, he took a few breaths to steady himself. One foot in front of the other. Don't show panic.   
  
Don't panic.  
  
He found himself almost at a sprint, and forced his body to slow down, tried to will his heart to stop hammering, to keep his legs from going faster than the measured stalking he wanted. He passed by groups of giggling girls and laughing boys with almost no notice. Usually the din around him forced him to create his perfected icy exterior in order to concentrate, but now he barely heard it. Sound could not pierce the frozen shell around him, but hands could and one landed heavily on his shoulder, forcing his own momentum to spin him around so abruptly he almost lost his balance and actually tottered for a second.  
  
Tottered. How incredibly undignified. And who---?  
  
Ah, yes. Wheeler. He turned, impatient to be gone, feeling his body speed up in the throes of panic at this delay.  
  
And yet the hand didn't move.  
  
And he found, to his surprise, that he couldn't pull away. Not that he would WANT to run from Joey, of course, but there was something he didn't like about the warmth from the other boy's fingers spreading slowly through the material of his shirt.  
  
"What do you want?" he asked in his best rough growl. He couldn't deal with this, couldn't let Wheeler confront him like this and then get away with it, but somewhere he thought he heard a clock ticking.  
  
Or a bomb.  
  
He wrenched his shoulder out of Joey's grasp and glared at the other boy.  
  
To his surprise, there was no returning animosity, just surprise.  
  
Wait. That glint...yes, Joey's temper was rising. Again.   
Like always.  
"Listen, Kaiba," he began.  
  
"Look, Wheeler. As much as I enjoy these little interludes of ours, I, regrettably, have to be elsewhere. So, if you'll excuse me..." He began to turn, only to have Joey step ahead and block his way. The other boy folded his arms and looked him in the eye.  
  
"What's the rush, Kaiba? School isn't even halfway through yet. And you and I both know that even you can't get away with skipping the rest of study hall and classes. So where ARE you going?"  
  
His eyes flicked to the ground, to Wheeler's jacket, to the lockers, to group of girls standing behind Joey.  
  
"Get out of my way."  
  
One golden-brown eyebrow arched, and Joey seemed to settle himself a little more solidly. "Not likely."  
  
Goddammit.  
  
"Move!" A note of panic, now.  
  
Joey didn't even shift.  
  
What was going on? Was he losing this, too? He would have laughed, if the situation hadn't been so deadly unfunny.   
  
Never thought he'd see the day when he couldn't bully Wheeler around.  
  
Tick.  
  
His cell phone rang.   
  
Clapping a hand to his pocket, he drew it out and looked at the number.  
  
His eyes widened, and Joey watched with interest as the blood drained from his face. To tell the truth, he was getting a little nervous standing here, within striking range of whatever had Kaiba so on the run. As much as he disliked the arrogant prick, he had to admit that anything that could get Kaiba flustered instead of angry or, worse, condescending, was to be admired.  
  
Admired?  
  
"Ow!" He was pushed roughly back into a group of suddenly giggling girls, out of the way as Kaiba snapped his phone shut and pushed past. He watched in bewilderment as the other boy walked rapidly away.  
  
While Joey disentangled himself, Kaiba pulled out his phone again and ran quickly down the list of numbers he had stored there until he found the one he needed. A quick succession of tones and then the impersonal ring...ring...ring...  
  
"Pick up!" he hissed, picking up his pace as he reached the parking lot.  
  
Ring...ring...ri---  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Talk to me."  
  
"Sir, it's just not feasible. I've been through all the records, gone through all the codes, checked everything...and there's not a loophole anywhere big enough for even a flea to squeeze through. I don't know how they did it."  
  
His mind ran through the possibilities.  
  
Revenge.  
  
Competition.  
  
Business.  
  
Power.  
  
But weren't they all, in the end, the same thing?  
  
"Shut it down," he growled. Silence on the other end of the line.  
  
"...Sir?"  
  
"You heard me," he said, hating every word and the weakness it implied. "We have to shut it down and work from the inside to find their bug or virus or whatever it was that they used. And Dwires, if I find you've leaked information..."  
  
"Sir!"  
  
"...You'll be sorry." He slapped the phone closed, and looked blankly at the parking lot around him.  
  
Oh. Right. School hadn't ended, so his chauffeur wasn't there. He wondered, vaguely, what his employees did on their free time, but shook it off and dialed his house number, seething.  
  
It wasn't until he hung up to wait for the car that he realized he was sweating.  
  
***  
  
"I'm serious, he was really freaked out about something."  
  
Tristan laughed. "Come on, Joey. That ice cube? I don't think he has the capabilities to act the way you said he did."  
  
"I'm not kidding. It was like he was scared of me or something...and he just ran right out of school."  
  
Trying the lunch and then pushing it away with a grimace, Joey leaned his chair back against the wall and folded his arms behind his head. His friend looked skeptical.  
  
"Scared of you."  
  
"Yeah," Joey said, running one long-fingered hand through his messy mass of sunny hair.  
  
"Kaiba. Scared. Of you?" Tristan quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes!" he growled.  
  
Tristan laughed. "Come on, Joey," he said. "That would imply you could scare anyone. You really believe you're that intimidating?" He shook his head slowly from side to side. "You poor misguided child."  
  
Joey snarled. "Look, reverend, I'm just tellin' you what I saw. And what I SAW was Kaiba running out the door with his tail between his legs."  
  
"Funny," Tristan said. "I thought YOU were the dog in this relationship."  
  
"You little---" He launched himself at Tristan, who was laughing delightedly.  
  
"Oh, c'mon---ow---Joey, I'm just joking. It's not like you're his little lapdog or anything. Ow! Maybe he had a hot date or something."  
  
Joey burned.  
  
And yet, he couldn't help noting, on some subconscious level, Tristan's word choice. Relationship. Lapdog. Date.  
  
And that subconscious level---very carefully, because it had tried this before only to be met with a brick emotional wall about three feet thick---insinuated corresponding images into another sublevel of Joey's mind. And these images, while not entirely comfortable, nevertheless filled an up-till-then empty niche and settled there quietly in the part of Joey that he didn't like to admit to. That part no one likes to admit to---the deep, dark, fantasies of his heart and mind and desires lived there, clinging on no matter how hard he tried, unconsciously, to drive them out.  
  
So while he scuffled with a maniacally grinning Tristan, his mind ran, almost lovingly, over these well-worn desires and deep, dark fantasies.  
  
Not that he knew this.  
  
So he couldn't quite explain why, when he almost had Tristan, almost had the squirming punk right where he could declare victory, a sudden memory of clutching Kaiba's shoulder---not Kaiba's...Tristan's. Right? ---led to a clear vision of the expression in those cold blue eyes.  
  
And then he wondered how he'd let Tristan get the upper hand, and fell back, with only a minor lack of enthusiasm and concentration, into the fray.   
  
Nothing to think about, really.  
  
***  
  
Aria: Okay! Please review this. I'm not entirely sure where, specifically, to go from here, although I do have the rest of the story sketched out. Plus a really...hot (hee!) interlude. Hope you enjoy so far... 


	3. Snap

Aria: Well, here I am again! Sorry it's taken me a while, but this is a fairly different story from any I've tried before, and this chapter in particular has taken a lot of trial and error. So, before I move on, to the reviewers:  
  
Dillon: I'll take that rain check, if it's all the same to you. Although I could certainly use a hedgehog or two...  
  
Tammi1: Glad you like it! It is an interesting take...I just hope it works! Besides, Joey in the show is much more aggressive than so many people write him. I just thought he'd be more IC this way...  
  
Angel: Eep. Here's the next chapter...don't hurt me! Please! And I promise, this WILL get Joey and Kaiba together. Patience.  
  
Saiko Senshi: Well, I'm certainly happy to be part of the planet's continuing survival.  
  
Oklina: Enjoy! And thanks for the review.  
  
Deaddesire: Yay for hot interludes! Joey and Kaiba aren't getting together in this chapter, so I think I'll add the interlude to hold you all over...  
  
Emme1: Exactly. Personally, I think Joey's in better shape than Seto. He's much less repressed.  
  
ColeyCarissa: Sorry it took a while, but here's your update.  
  
DorothyWhainright: Thanks for the review! Hope you like this chappie too...  
  
RESCUE  
  
Chapter 3  
Snap.  
  
He shut his phone, leaned back into the smooth leather upholstery and almost sighed. Almost. And yet---and yet that wouldn't be right. He was single-handedly pulling the company out of potential disaster---again---and sighing was not a way to celebrate that.  
But it was so tempting.  
  
Not that he was quite out of the lion's den yet. He glanced at his watch.   
  
2:08.  
  
He'd left school---when? His mind traveled haltingly back over the day. He'd gotten up...swam...gotten Mokuba up...gone to school...tossed insults with the mutt...and somewhere during the morning his mind went blank.  
  
Well, not completely blank. He rubbed absentmindedly at the bruise forming on his shin from where that idiot, Wheeler, had tripped over him. It hurt. He lifted up his pant leg to see what it looked like, and was mildly dismayed at the blossom of purple blooming on his shinbone.  
  
Damned dog.  
  
So it had been...what, three hours? Four? Closer to four, he thought, and his stomach rumbled.   
  
Oh, yes. Lunch. How'd he forgotten that? He shook his head and went back over the conversation he'd just had with his secretary. The woman had been nearly crying with stress by the time he'd called his office.  
  
"Oh, Mr. Kaiba," she'd said. "It's good you've called. There are so many messages...you have no idea..."  
  
"Call the members of the board," he'd told her coolly. "And the lawyers. This is getting settled today."  
  
"But Mr. Kaiba...the messages..."  
  
He cut her off sharply, his patience, never great, waning quickly. "They're probably all from the people I just asked you to contact. Now, call them, or start looking for another job."  
  
A pause.  
  
"Yes sir," she'd said briskly. "I've contacted the board and the lawyers. They'll meet you in the conference room."  
  
"Excellent," he'd said.  
  
And snap.  
  
He watched the scenery roll by and wondered what he'd say to the board, what any of them had to say for themselves, if the lawyers would be needed, if---  
  
If he could get out of this one.  
  
For a second, he felt consumed by heat; warmth running up and down his body, throbbing in the bruised shin, sliding up his back.   
  
He shivered and closed his eyes.   
  
He could do it. He could always do it.  
  
Alone.  
  
The car pulled smoothly into the circle in front of the KaibaCorp building, and purred away behind him, ruffling the edge of his long blue coat with warm air. Before him, stood the building, rising in smooth splinters of glass and steel, reflecting back sunlight and shimmering coolly in the upper air. He could hear the rush of wind around the corners, felt it snap against his lean frame. He adjusted the briefcase in his hand and walked through the circling glass doors, feeling the brush of conditioned air smooth against his stress-worn face, chilling the sweat on his body, walking past the receptionist, who quickly made a call to the conference room, pausing just outside the polished wooden door, his hand barely resting on the handle.  
  
He took a breath.  
  
Another.  
  
Another.  
  
The handle turned. He walked into a room that instantly filled with noise---men in business suits leapt from their chairs, men in business suits turned from their arguments to raise questions that buffeted him as he walked to his seat at the head of the long, gleaming table.  
  
He remained silent, icy, aloof, his shoulders back and his back straight.   
  
No one could see the way his knuckles whitened as he clenched the handle of his briefcase.  
  
Laying the case down on the table, he pulled out his chair and sat in it, still silent---leaned back and waited for the uproar to die down. It did so reluctantly, as the men straightened their jackets and ties, sat back down and turned to him with expressions of childish irritation.  
  
"Gentlemen," he said softly. He saw looks pass between them, and one at the very end of the table rose. He looked pale but determined.  
  
"What are you doing, Kaiba?" he demanded. "Shutting down the computers? Slowing productivity? What's going on?"  
  
Murmurs of agreement rustled softly around the table---men were nodding sullenly and not looking at him.  
  
Kaiba folded his fingers together and stared at the man levelly. He flushed, but stood his ground, watching the CEO defiantly.  
  
"Gentlemen," Kaiba said again, in a tone which clearly implied he didn't, necessarily, mean the word, "I've called you here today to discuss this latest attack on KaibaCorp. Clearly," his eyebrow quirked just slightly, "some of you have not been paying attention to the news." He unsnapped his briefcase, took out his laptop and brought up the link to the story. He plugged in the room's computer to the laptop and downloaded the story, then waited as each man read the story on the screen imbedded before his chair.  
  
As the seconds ticked by, he ran over again what he already had. Not much, but it had to work. If they worked fast, they might be able to save the company, and, more importantly, the reputation of KaibaCorp.   
  
His reputation.  
  
He waited until, one by one, they all looked back up at him, the childish pouts replaced now by seriousness. The spokesman very slowly sank into his chair, and looked up at Kaiba wordlessly.  
  
He quirked an eyebrow and swiveled his chair from side to side.  
  
"Kaiba..." came someone softly from his left. It was almost a sigh. "Is this true?"  
  
He turned to the speaker sharply. "Of course not," he said. "Our accounts, as well as what goes in and out of them, are monitored very closely. There's no way. Communications a re monitored. Everything works as part of a whole. If one thing started doing something other than what it was supposed to be doing, the whole system would shut down." I think.  
  
The other man seemed at a loss. "But then---then---"  
  
"What to do about it," Kaiba interjected. "That is the question that forced me to call you together today, gentleman. How to find the problem, and how, once we've found it, to eliminate it.  
  
"For good."  
  
***  
  
His clock showed 12:20 when he finally stepped into his room, and he tossed his coat on a chair, sat on the bed.  
  
His hands trembled.  
  
He pulled the laptop toward him and flipped it open.  
  
Hours, today. Hours spent arguing with corporate executives, hours spent searching through papers and articles until his eyes burned and the bruise in his leg throbbed unbearably, hours spent in the back of his car, watching the scenery flow by while he formulated plans and pinpointed weaknesses.  
  
And then everything moved so quickly.  
  
They'd traced the original deception to a small entertainment company with powerful friends...a company which could never be a contender against KaibaCorp without first nullifying their influence. He'd found the missing link himself, in an outgoing email from a minor employee who now no longer worked at KaibaCorp, or, indeed, at all.  
  
His heart thudded a little hollowly as he brought up a window and typed in three names: the informant---Owen Daniels, a likable young man in publicity---, the receiver, and the technician who'd let things slip.   
  
Enter.  
  
The screen blinked, and a word appeared in bold across the names: BLACKLISTED.  
  
He shut the computer with a snap and pushed it away, fell back onto his bed with a thud. He closed his eyes, feeling them burn with exhaustion. The company was saved---for now---but he had some misgivings about the whole process. It had happened so quickly, and been dealt with so brutally, that he trembled with nervous exhaustion. After finding the link, he'd swiftly brought back communications, released a statement. He could still see the firefly-flickers of the photographer's flashes behind his eyelids, burned onto his retinas. He'd assured the public that there had been a mistake, that it was being dealt with, that the persons responsible would be dealt with. Dealt with. What do you mean by that, asked one young reporter. He noted how the others fell suddenly, unusually silent. He'd fixed the young man with his coolest gaze.  
  
I'll leave that up to your imagination, he'd said.  
  
On second thought, he might have rather too harsh. After all, in the cutthroat world of business, things like this happened all the time. He'd dealt with it before, and always adequately. And yet---  
  
And yet today he'd ruined a man's life, wrecked a promising young company's chances of survival. They would be assimilated into KaibaCorp without even a whimper, grateful to get away with anything at all.  
  
He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and slapped his alarm on. Seconds after he'd crawled into bed he was asleep and dreaming.  
  
The wind whipped around him, dragging at his arms, his legs like a lover, teasing at his coat, pulling at his clothes. How easy to just fall, to let go into the loving cold wind, out and away and down and out and down...  
  
He leaned forward, his eyes closed. How easy, letting go.  
  
Except it wasn't easy anymore, there was something holding him back, there was something linked around his waist, holding him back and safe and warm and wanted.  
  
He looked down in astonishment at the arms that wrapped solidly around his waist, but his gaze was caught by a wisp of wheat-sun-autumn gold that flicked by his eye.  
  
He turned.  
  
Those honey-brown eyes burned.  
  
Aria: *sighs* Finally, I got this chapter finished! I hope you all like this so far...it's so much fun to write, but it's hard at the same time because it's so completely unlike any other story I've written. Anyway, I know there's an aspect of Jou/Seto so far, but it hasn't materialized yet, but no worries! I'm writing the next chapter, and it's pretty hot. But if you want to see it in the near future, you have to leave me a review! 


	4. Cold

Aria: I didn't think I'd be back again so soon! But I am compelled. Besides, I don't want to disappoint my loyal reviewers! Speaking of which...  
  
Coley Carissa: I'm glad you like it so much! I can't wait to write the Jou/Seto portion, but I'm going to take my time and let them get there on their own. Cheers.  
  
Dillon: Thanks! And I feel for him too, man, Kaiba has such angst-potential!  
  
Tristan: Inner turmoil doesn't even begin to describe what I think that kid has wrong with him.  
  
Aria: Quiet, you! I'm glad you like the story so far. And I was wondering if you might be willing to part with a few of those weasels...just in case I ever get flamed.  
  
Oklina: Sorry if anything was unclear ^__^; I hope you like this chapter, and that it resolves the cliffhanger! Nice choice of words by the way. Very ironic.  
  
Kagemihari: Thanks for the great review! I'm glad you liked the dream, and even gladder that you knew it was a dream...I was a little worried people might think it was actually happening...and though I won't rush the relationship, it's bound to happen. Cause they lurve each other!  
  
Kaiba: *snarls*  
  
Joey: *mutters*  
  
Angel: Glad you approve...^__^; true it's dealt with, but what's next? Only the Shadow knows!  
  
Bakura: Get a hold of yourself, you twit.  
  
Aria: Just for that, YOU do the disclaimer, Bakura.  
  
Bakura: *grumble grumble grumble*  
  
Coon Queen: Thanks for the great review! I know the fire/ice thing is used a lot...but, after all, it IS sorta true, ain't it? It's an oldie and a goodie...I'm glad you like my writing. And here's your update!  
  
Bakura: grumblegrumble Aria Marier doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh grumblegrumble just a fic grumble grumble YOU'LL ALL DIE grumblegrumble...  
  
Aria: Aah...thanks, um, Bakura. *pales* Onward!  
  
RESCUE  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Beep.  
  
Beep.  
  
Beep beep beep beep be-  
  
Numbers glowed sullenly at him from across the room. He groaned, and slammed a fist into his pillow. Just once, just once he'd like to hit the SNOOZE button on that stupid contraption, or, better, unplug the silly thing and slip seamlessly back into dreamland. Or not---he shifted a little as he recalled images of last night's dreams, snatched at them in the early-morning murkiness of his mind.  
  
Wind. A teasing, loving wind that he longed to fall into and then---  
  
And then. He frowned. Something had been holding him back...right? Was that right? Something locked around his waist, something warm and strong.  
  
So thinking, he fell back asleep.  
  
A soft knocking woke him, and he jerked up, looking around in confusion at the brilliant sunlight flooding his room. It was never this light when he woke up.  
  
A voice came hesitantly from the hallway. "Big brother...?"  
  
He looked at the clock. 7:48.   
  
Shit.  
  
He scrambled out of bed, tripping slightly on the clinging sheets and stumbled over to his dresser.  
  
"Just a minute, Mokuba," he called as he sorted through his clothes feverishly, pulling on his school uniform and straightening his hair as best he could. Dammit.  
  
"It's okay, Seto!" he heard Mokuba call from the hallway. "I've had breakfast and everything...I just wanted to wake you up to go to school."  
  
But his gaze had fallen on his laptop, on that slab of plastic and metal that he made his living by. That blacklist---by now it would have hit every company, every newspaper. People would be talking, people would be wondering and accusing and he'd have to deal with it all NOW, because he saw, when he opened the computer, the little blink in the corner of his screen.  
  
E-mail.  
  
He clicked it open, shaking unruly sleep-shaggy hair out of his eyes, and perused the documents there.  
  
To: skaiba@kaibacorp.com  
  
From: porter@nwo.net  
  
Re: Discard  
  
Kaiba---we've received the data you sent. Transfer successful; operation complete.  
Incidentally, nice trap card.  
  
L. Porter  
  
New World Order  
  
Trap?  
  
Another:  
  
To: skaiba@kaibacorp.net  
  
From: clark.agent@ysadrel.net  
  
You're in. Diamente Games is yours. A new toy to add to the collection. Aren't you the schoolyard bully, though?  
  
Ryan Clark  
  
"Seto?"  
  
He closed the laptop and went to the door, opening it and watching in amusement as Mokuba practically fell through the suddenly open doorway. He knelt down to get to his brother's eye level.  
  
"I don't think I'll be going to school today, Mokuba."  
  
His brother made a face. "Work?"  
  
He nodded. "Work. You've eaten?" The dark head before him bobbed up and down reluctantly. "Good. Have a good day at school---don't get into any trouble!"  
  
He was rewarded by a small, mischievous grin, and then Mokuba turned and ran down the hall, his backpack bouncing behind him. He stood, feeling his knees crack, and stretched a little before turning back into his room and opening his laptop.  
  
Blink.  
  
Another message. He opened it.  
  
To: skaiba@kaibacorp.com  
  
From: paige.mage@orphan.net  
  
Re: Daniels  
  
Kaiba. While going over the police blotter for today's news, I found this:  
1:30 AM: Police were called to break down a locked door in an apartment building, and found a man bleeding heavily from several apparently self-inflicted gashes. The landlady told police she had seen him go into the room stumbling and smelling heavily of alcohol, and that he hadn't replied when she'd knocked on the door. The man was taken to Mercy Hospital, where he is recovering in intensive care.   
  
He stared at the screen, and felt heat rise unwanted under his skin, up his neck, into his mind and brain and thoughts and self.  
  
Almost immediately another message came, and he opened it, reading with dull eyes.  
  
To: skaiba@kaibacorp.com  
  
From: dwires@kaibacorp.com  
  
Re: Publicity  
  
Sir-  
  
The papers already have the story. We're not at fault---technically. I've given it to the publicity department, but you'll probably need to make a statement later on. Jesus, who knew he'd pull a stunt like this? The public isn't going to like this, but unless he gets an incredible lawyer, we should be in the clear.  
  
Dwires  
  
The heat was unbearable now---it flooded his neck and poured relentlessly through his bloodstream, steaming his mind and making it hard to think, to consider.  
  
He had to get rid of the heat.  
  
Then he could think. He longed for icy cold to clear his mind and make it ice-hard and quick.   
  
He closed the laptop.  
  
***  
  
Joey yawned widely, his eyes squinting tightly shut as he stretched himself against a locker in the hallway. He opened them to find Tristan looking at him with amusement.  
  
"What?"  
  
Tristan shook his head. "You know, for someone who can sleep till one on a weekend, you sure are tired on the weekdays." He adopted a mothering tone, clucking over his friend and straightening the crumpled edges of Joey's uniform. "Not getting sleep, are we? Having bad dreams?"  
  
"Get offa me," Joey said good-naturedly, brushing Tristan's hand away, but something in him shivered a little. He HAD been having dreams of late---no bad dreams, per say, but vivid and disturbing nonetheless. Dreams that ended with him waking to sweat-soaked sheets that twisted around his body, holding onto his pillow for dear life, as though he was afraid he might fall off the bed.  
  
No. Not that he would fall off---  
  
"Joey!"  
  
He shook himself. "What?" he asked, annoyed.  
  
Tristan grinned. "I dunno, you just looked a little spacier than usual. Pining for Kaiba?"  
  
What?  
  
"What?!?" he yelped, springing off the locker, a sudden flush of heat cascading down his spine, turning into shivers that spread deliciously through his body, traveling back across his stomach like a like warm breeze, so different from the cold raw violent wind of his dreams... "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, taking a bite out of the apple he held.  
  
Tristan laughed. "Uh-oh, lover's spat," he said, spreading his hands before him. "I dunno, Joey, but we've been standing here for a while and I haven't seen Kaiba yet. And I KNOW how much you enjoy those little encounters."  
  
"You take it back, man," Joey growled, his eyes flashing. "Or I'll make you eat those words." Tristan squirmed and laughed and pushed him away, but deep within Joey's mind something shivered. Where was Kaiba? Tristan was right---he'd never gone this long without running into the guy, or becoming the target of his sarcastic needling...he ticked over the times when he had expected to see Kaiba, when his pulse had begun to race in anticipation only to slow to a crawl when he turned the corner without finding the baleful blue stare.  
  
He didn't want to think about the implication of that. Absently, he glanced at the clock, and something in his ribcage squeezed, once, hard. Almost eleven, and Kaiba was nowhere to be found. Joey thought uneasily about the kind of things that would throw Kaiba off his impeccably kept schedule, and then looked at the clock again. He hadn't thought there WERE things that could throw Kaiba off his schedule.  
  
Like he had thought there was nothing out there that could crack that icy exterior, and yet it had been just yesterday that he'd seen fear in those clear blue eyes---not as dark as he'd thought, but clear and alight with intelligence.  
  
He wondered what they'd look like fired with passion.  
  
He shook his head brutally, but the image cleared away to leave an even more disturbing one---yesterday Kaiba had fled. Today he was not at school.   
  
He came to a decision.  
  
"Come on," he said, throwing the apple away, grabbing Tristan by the upper arm and ignoring his friend's protests. "We're takin' a little field trip."  
  
***  
  
Splash.  
  
The cold water was a shock to his over-heating body---he felt it bubble against his skin in protest as he slid through it, felt the bubbles change to silk against his body three strokes in.   
  
Smooth, silken.  
  
Cold.  
  
He broke the surface, gasping for air at the other side of the pool. Chilly air rushed, tangy with chlorine, into his lungs. He gulped it gratefully, savoring the chill. He'd cut off the heat to the room, and the air was so cold his throat stung, but he took a deep breath, pushed off back into the cold clear water.  
  
Stroke in. Out. Faster. Harder. Forget the day, forget the night. Forget the dreams, forget that image of Owen Daniels lying broken and moving weakly in his own blood. His body was trying to heat again, but the water and the air stole it faster than his heart could beat it out. Tiles. Turn. Dive. Breath.  
  
Cold.  
  
He was swimming much more slowly; his arms barely lifting from the water, his legs just trailing behind.  
  
So cold.  
  
He was so very cold.  
  
He lifted his head slightly from the water. The edge was maybe ten yards away---he could see the blue tiles gleaming. Slowly---why was he going so slowly?---he pushed himself toward the edge of the pool. Slowly---was he moving at all? The edge didn't seem any closer---his frozen muscles reacted; laboriously, too cold for movement, too cold for pain. Blood ran thick and cold as syrup in his veins---reaching out a pale hand to the edge---finally there---he was shocked to see that his fingernails were almost the same shade of blue as the tile.  
  
His fingers gripped the edge, locked. He slowly maneuvered his body close to the slick wall, and got ready to pull himself out.  
  
He pulled.  
  
Nothing happened. He barely moved an inch out of the water.  
  
His heart thudded a little faster now; blood ran a little quicker through him, trying to wake his frozen muscles. He gritted his teeth, threw an arm over the edge, and pulled with all the strength he had, his arm slipping and scrabbling for purchase on the wet tile...but he moved. Slowly, so very slowly he levered himself up and out of the cold water, pulled himself onto the slick tiles, where he collapsed, his muscles shaking from exertion and cold.  
  
He lay there for a long time, almost an eternity, before he tried to move again, and then he tried, and once again he failed. His arms would not obey him; his legs were like so many pieces of cordwood. They moved, but with no power and little direction. There seemed nothing to do but to lie down and sleep, and so he lay his head down on the glossy blue tiles, and felt the cold move through his body. There was a clanging noise in his ears, like running steps, and it reminded him, inexplicably, of his dream, in which he longed to fall into the wind that teased at him, and he moved to it, tried to embrace it but there were arms around him, warm arms that held him up and now he opened his eyes, blurry with chlorine and cold and watched in amazement how light glinted off the warm honey eyes and wheat-gold hair and conscious now of the arms that held him here, in his dream and not in his dream.  
  
The mouth shaped a word. He squinted, but heard nothing, and felt only the faintest brush of warm breath against his face, smelling, incredibly, like apple.  
  
Joey tried again.   
  
"Kaiba..."  
  
***  
  
Aria: Cue dramatic music! Joey saves Seto from a fate worse then death...or that could lead to death, or...I dunno. Something. Read on, dear fellows, and be of stout heart, for the next chapter is limey and I don't mean everyone has British accents...Yeah. I've been reading Shakespeare. He always brings out my flair for the dramatic...Anyway. Reviews make me happy and keep me writing! So review! Cheers! 


	5. Heat

Aria: *blinks* Whoa. How the heck did I get so many reviews? *sniffs* I love you guys!  
  
Bakura: That doesn't mean you have to hug ME, you twit.  
  
Aria: Um...right. Sorry Bakura. So, I honor of my faithful reviewers, and 'cause I kinda wanted to do it anyway, there will be Seto/Jou fluffiness in this chapter. Also slight lime, although only by implication. Okay? Okay.  
  
To my reviewers:  
  
Animom: Sorry I wasn't there to get your IM...I'm glad you like my story! Thanks for your great review! I've always wondered what Joey thinks in his deepest secret mind...I guess this is one way to find out.  
  
Yami Hoshiko: *blush* You're way too kind. I'm happy you enjoy my story. I felt bad for Kaiba too, but it's gotta happen. Here's your update!  
  
Angel: All will be explained. And Kaiba doesn't die (I'm not THAT angsty!), and there WILL be fluff. ^_^;;  
  
Oklina: I know, I feel kinda bad about all the trouble I'm putting Kaiba through, but the boy's gotta learn sometime he can't take on everything by himself. And I personally think Joey is an even better saviour figure than Kaiba.  
  
Keira Maxwell: Hurrah for Seto and Jou! Thanks for the great review. I'm glad you like the difference.  
  
Coley Carissa: Poor Kaiba indeed...but I think Joey may be able to help him out. ^_^  
  
Chibiusaxoxox: Bwahahah! Yay for evil cliffhangers...I'm honored you like this so much. Hope this chapter meets expectations.  
  
Emme1: Wow! *blush* I'm really flattered you like my story so much. Keep reading! It's going to get even better! And this chappie's mostly from Joey's POV, so we get even more of a look inside his head.  
  
LetheSeraph: Hey, good to see you again! And thanks for the fantastic review...I'm really glad you like it so much. Keep watching "Secrets of a Rose" too...I'm working on a new chapter for that one as well.  
  
Dillon: Hey man. I just want to say thanks---I get a lot of encouragement from you and your menagerie...by the way, I DID join A_Dragon's_Lair. It's way cool. Thanks for letting me know about it! So, yeah. New chapter, and this one has even MORE imagery. Seeing a pattern yet?  
  
Tammi1: Thanks for the review! Yes, Kaiba's in trouble, but Joey saves the day? We hope.  
  
Joey: Come on, I'm TOTALLY up for it.  
  
Kaiba: You put my life in HIS hands? -_-;;  
  
Aria: um...Ok, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. Clearly. Not that I haven't tried...  
  
RESCUE  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Heat  
  
Joey stared in amazement at the limp figure in his arms.  
  
"...Kaiba..."  
  
He'd dragged Tristan out of school kicking and screaming.  
  
"Come on, man," Tristan shouted, trying to free his arm from Joey's grip, with little success. "I was just joking. We can't go looking for Kaiba, Joey."  
  
He'd turned and glared at his friend, releasing him and folding his arms across his chest. "And why not?"  
  
"Um..." Tristan looked around vaguely and rubbed the back of his head and hazarded a guess. "We have school?"  
  
His arm was grabbed again, and Joey rolled his eyes as he pulled his friend along. "You can't do better than that? 'We have school'. Honestly."  
  
Tristan struggled, and Joey lost his grip for a minute, his fingers lost purchase and Tristan stood up to look at him quizzically. "Why's this so important to you?"  
  
Joey thought about it, although he tried to not think TOO hard about it. If he did that, he might come up with the truth---might have to face the flashing images and waves of heat that rushed through his mind and body when he thought about that pair of cool blue eyes, those slim pale hands. A flicker of uncomfortable longing flashed through the edge of his mind, and he felt the familiar heat start to rise up his spine while he wondered why it felt so necessary to find the self-centered prick. He shivered a little, and, through a supreme effort of will banished a sudden glaring image of Kaiba's hand running through his silky brown hair and then falling softly back to his desk. So he thought about it, and tried not to think about it, and ended up even more confused than when he began. He swallowed, hard, and decided to go with the least dangerous and most obvious option.  
  
"Remember yesterday, when I told you how freaked out he was about somethin'?" Tristan nodded, and smiled, but Joey held up a warning hand. "NOT the time for a wisecrack, buddy. Anyway, just think about it for a second...yesterday something freaks Kaiba out---Kaiba---and he leaves school early because of it, and today he's not even at school. You don't think there's something a little weird about that?"  
  
He could tell Tristan was thinking about it, and he almost grinned. Of course Tristan would have gone no matter what...that's what buddies did. He always had Joey's back.  
  
And if Tristan had been party to some of those rationalizations that had flitted through Joey's head the moment before, he'd still have come. Oh yes, he'd still have come all right, laughing all the way at Joey the puppy and his little fantasies. So Joey didn't think too hard about his rationalizations, because he was uneasily aware, on some level, that rationale didn't have a lot to do with it. Instead, flashes of flickering coats and blue eyes and cold winds flitted through his mind, underneath the conscious will---that deep dark place and it's deepest, darkest dreams.  
  
But he didn't think about this. Instead he clapped Tristan on the back and grinned at him. "Come on," he said. "I know you're a sucker for a pretty face like mine. Can you really say 'no' to this?" He looked at his friend with the biggest, saddest eyes he could muster, and Tristan glanced down and laughed.  
  
"Puppy dog eyes to save Kaiba," he said. "How perfect." He backed off, laughing, as Joey came at him with clenched fists and a mock growl. "Okay, okay," he laughed, cowering in mock submission. "You win. Let's go. But you owe me."  
  
"I'll put in a good word for you with Serenity," Joey growled, feeling a weight lift from his body. Tristan grinned widely.  
  
"So what's the plan, then?"  
  
Joey ran a hand through his hair distractedly. Good thing he'd already gotten Tristan's promise to help. "I don't really know," he admitted sheepishly. Tristan sighed.  
  
"Surprisingly, Boy Wonder hasn't thought things through. AGAIN. C'mon Joey, let's get my bike and start looking."  
  
Joey nodded. "I can only think of two places where he might be," he said as they walked over to Tristan's motorcycle. "It's gotta be either KaibaCorp or his house, right?"  
  
Tristan shrugged and handed Joey a helmet. "Sounds about right. I'll check out the KaibaCorp building and drop you off at the house on my way." Joey nodded, and they took off.  
  
And so he'd stood at the gate of the mansion, fighting intimidation as Tristan waved and sped away, wondering how he was going to get in. He didn't know if there was anyone at the Kaiba mansion during the day, or if they'd let him in if there were.  
  
He looked around helplessly, taking in the pristine green velvety lawn, the red brick mansion, the wrought-iron gates, the driveway where the sleek black limousine sat in a small pool of water, clearly having just been washed.  
  
Joey grinned, walked over to the car, past it, and right through the door he'd suspected would be there, waving to the chauffeur, who sat reading a dog-eared paperback novel in his shirtsleeves, on his way in.  
  
And promptly got lost.  
  
The house was so big and silent, silent with a hum that fazed through his eardrums and soaked through the hallways, which were padded with rich, thick carpets in velvety deep reds and blues and greens against the gleaming wood paneling. He walked softly through the halls, peeking cautiously into the rooms one at a time, opening the doors an inch or two and them closing them gently again. Library, billiard room, study, living room...the list went on and on as his shoes whispered against the thick carpets and his heart thundered in his chest, pushing blood through his body at an incredible rate. Finally being there, in Kaiba's house, was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time---he found himself wondering, vaguely, what would happen if Kaiba was fine, if he was caught wandering around the house, if he'd be arrested, if he'd be sued, if Kaiba would hate him even more...  
  
So thinking, he'd stumbled across a hall that smelled slightly of tangy chlorine and, curious, he'd wandered down it until his feet met with tile and he went through a door to be surrounded by cool air and the tangy smell of chlorine and the sight of Kaiba lying huddled on the cold wet tiles shaking like wet kitten---a cold, wet, vulnerable kitten and he ran over to him, pulled him halfway up until he was resting in Joey's arms, half on his lap and half still on the cold tiles.  
  
Joey stared in amazement at the limp figure in his arms, still shaking like a leaf, and with an unhealthy blue tinge to his fair skin. This close he could see every detail of eyebrow and mouth, could see the delicate translucent skin that he'd somehow never really noticed before. He felt at Kaiba's face for some sign of heat and was taken aback by how soft the skin of his cheek and forehead was.  
  
"...Kaiba..."  
  
The blue eyes were cracked open just slightly, but they didn't seem to be seeing him---rather, they saw through him and past him to some other figure standing right behind Joey, to the extent that he almost wanted to turn around and look himself, even though he knew no one was there.  
  
He tried again.  
  
"Kaiba? Kaiba, are you okay?" Stupid question, the rational part of his mind thought, almost with amusement. Clearly he's not okay. I mean, look at that skin color...not that blue isn't a good color for you, Kaiba.  
  
The blue eyes blinked, trying to clear away confusion. He felt cold from Kaiba's body seeping insidiously into his own warm body, and it scared him to feel that iciness, like a physical representation of Kaiba's own cool personality---but this was deadly, this was ice beyond anything Kaiba ever did or could control.  
  
"Kaiba," he said. The blue eyes closed. He felt a moment's desperation, hesitated, and then said it, feeling the slight weight of the word in his mouth, the way his lips moved, the taste of the name. "Seto...?"  
  
The boy in his arms was still shivering, but he jolted suddenly at this, and one eye opened slightly, blurry with chlorine and cold. He took courage from the reaction.  
  
"Se-seto. Seto, you need to warm up---I need to warm you up. Seto, do you understand me?"  
  
He stared at Joey in confusion. Warm, What could he possibly mean? He was perfectly warm. Wasn't his skin burning? Why did everything feel so cold if he wasn't warm?  
  
Joey shook him slightly---he felt the motion as through a down comforter, muffled and slow. "Say something!"  
  
He opened his mouth for a biting comment, something to make the mutt take back this suddenly commanding tone, run from his house and never come back, something, anything to prove he was fine, he was, and then honey-clear eyes locked into him, burning fingers gripped his frozen arms. Warm.  
  
Oh God.  
  
"Oh God Je-je-Joey I'm frozen I'm dying..." I'm dying I'm so cold so cold so so so---  
  
"Hell. Oh hell. Let's see..." He felt his body being slid gently back to the floor, felt the absence of those warm hands and the pressure of a warm body as he would feel his own soul being ripped away. He said nothing.  
  
Joey ran around the pool, looking for a towel, a robe, anything to wrap Kaiba up in until he could think of something to do. He found a thick blue towel hanging neatly on a peg by the shower, and ripped it off with more force than he would have expected before running back to Kaiba's prone figure and wrapping him none too gently in the towel. That done, he sat back and ran a distracted hand through his hair.  
  
"Hell. Oh hell." He glanced down at the figure before him, noted the blue tinge to the skin, the shaking muscles. He shook his head. "Hypothermia, you stupid rich bastard. You've gone and gotten hypothermia and what am I gonna do about it?"  
  
He was talking to himself, Kaiba thought, but he tried to pay attention, tried to listen all the same but all he could feel were those burning fingers, and all he could do was watch Joey's eyes dart back and forth nervously, and wonder when they stopped suddenly at a point far above his own prone body. He could practically see the gears ticking along inside Joey's head, and wished he could grin, wished he could make some remark about the mutt's thought processes, or lack thereof. He was mildly surprised to find, then, that Joey's mouth was still moving, that words still fell from him and swirled around and inside Kaiba's head. He was still talking? Why? Words fell on him like frozen drops, glittering off the shell of ice that enclosed him, and was surprised when he was roughly hauled to his feet, supported against Joey's warm frame.  
  
He tried to listen.  
  
"---if this works, you don't kill me for it later, how about?" They were walking, Kaiba pushed along with Joey's own body, following the other's momentum. "Look, I'm sorry but I have to---" What could he conceivably be saying? He was being leaned gently against a cold tile wall, and he collapsed against it gratefully, but then panic flared through him as that heat, that warmth, moved away, he was moving away...  
  
"Joey!" It ripped out of him, that name, shredded his throat and lungs and mind and self as he said it, screamed it, dreamed it, laughed it hated it loved it.  
  
His eyes widened, slightly, as something deep inside him flared and that icy conscious mind that wouldn't recognize whose arms were in his dream struggled to regain control. He wanted desperately to take refuge in his old taunts, wanted desperately to drive Joey away, wanted so desperately to feel the old cold anger rise up to defend himself but he couldn't, he wouldn't.  
  
Joey didn't see that struggle, his back was turned and he was fiddling with something on the wall...the thermostat. He muttered a curse under his breath and turned it up further, further. He hesitated, and turned back. He didn't look at Kaiba, but his brown eyes held a strange, secretive look to them that he didn't recognize.  
  
Was that---shame?  
  
"Look, I'm sorry Kaiba. But I have to---you---you're frozen. I have to---don't---don't---don't be mad." Gentle hands gripped his arms, warm honey eyes looked deep into his own, and then one hand moved, twisted, and Kaiba felt the individual drops of hot water as they hit his head, his face, his body.  
  
Joey checked the temperature. Warm, but not too hot...it wouldn't burn Kaiba's delicate skin, wouldn't heat him up too quickly. He felt the water rain down on his hands, still gripping Kaiba's arms for dear life, and he felt the shiver of muscles underneath his fingers. He watched the skin of Kaiba's chest shudder and pucker at the change of temperature, watched the rivers of water stream down over lean muscle and flood over his body.   
  
Warmth.  
  
It felt alien and raw and sweet and coppery against his body, against his skin, so waxy cold, and he closed his eyes, tilted his face into the rushing water. He could feel himself thawing, could feel that deadly ice begin to melt, his blood begin to flow, his skin begin to warm. Hot water ran in streams over his body, down his back and legs, warming him back to life. He felt Joey's fingers change purchase slightly on his arms, and he wondered how much of his weight Joey was supporting. It felt like a lot. It felt like he would fall if Joey let him go---fall down and out and into the wind and the steaming water...  
  
He lowered his head and opened his eyes, reveling in the creaky movement of his muscles, reviving in the warmth of the water, in the warmth that flooded from Joey's living breathing body to his own. He felt the water as warm fingers trailing down his chest, as warm eyes following the trails of the fingers, and he shivered deliciously, noting how the water soaked Joey's shirt and plastered it against his body, how it ran lovingly through his shaggy golden hair. A stream of water flooded down his back and he felt it slid in a hot river across his skin.  
  
Hotter.  
  
Joey could feel fingers of water running over his eyes from his soaking hair, felt them hot against his face, felt his shirt grow heavy and warm, watched as his skin and Kaiba's began to pink from the heat of the water. The heat---he breathed in warm steam and let it slide out slowly---was it getting warmer? He glanced at the temperature. It hadn't moved, and yet the water that was streaming down definitely felt warmer---hotter---he watched it flow down his hands, streaming down Kaiba's arms and dripping off his fingers. He swallowed hard, the water suddenly burning against his skin.   
  
Hotter.  
  
It felt so good, this warmth against his skin, the weight of Joey's hands on his arms, this feeling---so liberating---of being this close to someone and feeling hot water rushing down his neck and back and chest---hotter---his skin began to pink and steam swirled around them---hotter---he looked up and met Joey's eyes.  
  
He burned. The water was hot---too hot---he was burning and he couldn't break away, like that moment in the hall yesterday when Joey had stopped him. He couldn't move---he burned---he desperately wanted to move. It was physically impossible, and yet this heat was swallowing him whole. He felt the water as fingers through his hair, playing with the heavy mass of it and then trickling down over his face, tracing every line of his eyebrow and jaw, tasting his skin like a kiss. Joey's fingers felt branded, soldered, welded to his arms---they burned, he would burn---  
  
And then the heat spread through him, from his skin to his center, from his head and eyes and mouth to his chest, his back, his stomach, his legs and toes, and he held it within himself and marveled at the feeling. He was held by the serious clear eyes before him---he stared levelly back into them, suddenly realizing where he was, surfacing from his iced-over state and recognizing with dread that he was standing, soaked and trembling, in the shower with Joey Wheeler. He straightened. Joey let go of his arms, and the water temperature immediately dropped. How could he have thought it would burn? It was barely hot---just past warm.  
  
Nothing special.  
  
He watched in silence as Joey ran a hand through his mass of heavy, wet hair and tried to think of something---anything---to say. Something biting, something demeaning, something clever and original---something, anything to protect himself from this awkwardness, but found himself silent as Joey turned and walked away, searching for something.   
  
He didn't see the struggle that Joey was having with himself for control---that deep dark place inside him was moving uncomfortably in the back of his mind, and he didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about how warm water had steamed and bubbled and grown hotter as it touched his skin---Kaiba's skin...he sighed, and then realized he was looking right at what he'd been searching for...a few more thick towels. He plucked them up and brought them over, still carefully not thinking. He didn't meet Kaiba's eyes as he shut off the water and handed him a one towel, then started toweling himself dry with the other, shaking out his heavy wet hair---but he stopped when he noticed that Kaiba still hadn't moved. The guy still looked pretty shell-shocked, so Joey moved forward, took the towel and draped it around his shoulders. He though briefly about trying to towel that silky brown hair dry, but decided against it and just wrapped him as best he could---and felt a jolt of heat when he accidentally brushed some bare skin at his shoulder.  
  
Kaiba shivered, and for a bright clear rational second he looked up and met those honey-clear eyes and Joey felt again those fingers running down his cheek and over his skin and he opened his mouth to say something---anything---something bold, something stupid, something to drive away that ridiculous frightened look in Kaiba's eyes when he heard pounding steps down the hallway and the chauffeur came running in with Tristan close behind.  
  
He blinked and stepped away, aware on some level that something important had just happened and been missed, but more immediately relieved to have someone break into this.   
  
So he almost didn't notice when Kaiba collapsed.  
  
Aria: ...Wow. What a strange, fun, weird chapter. I hope you all liked reading it as much as I liked writing it...what you probably should know is that this scene is the basis for the entire story. I wanted to write a scene where they're in the shower together, and yet not romantically involved, so there's no interaction except for Joey's hands on Kaiba's arms...yet there's so much attraction between them that they feel it as heat, and as hot water, and they feel the water as the caresses they really want. So...yeah. The next will take a while to write, I'll try to get it out soon, by the end of next week at the latest---I know, I know, another cliff-hanger. Well, if you leave me a really nice review, it might inspire me to put the next chapter up sooner! Hope you enjoyed! 


	6. Inertia

Aria: I am distraught. I've ordered two different (or so I thought) versions of Yu-Gi-Oh on DVD, hoping to hear it with the original Japanese dialogue, but I've found that on both the subtitles are just awful. The cheaper version has the exact same bad subtitling as the more expensive and shinier (not kidding) version. Bah.  
  
Bakura: Aw, poor Aria. Here, hit Ryou. It'll make you feel better.  
  
Ryou: Hey!  
  
Aria: *sigh* So, if any of you out there know a version with good subtitles, let me know, although I'm not sure there actually are any...I may have to break down and get the American version. Suggestions? And while you're at it, here are some comments to the reviewers:  
  
Kinsako: Glad you like it so far! Mmmm...hot, cool and wet Jou and Kaiba...*sigh*. This is why I write fanfiction...  
  
Angel: No fears! There are plenty more Seto and Joey moments coming your way...much fluff, much emotional unstability etc...besides, you don't really want to win a bet where Kaiba dies, do you? Thanks for the review! Here's your update...hope you like it...  
  
Animom: Yeah, shower scenes ARE fun, aren't they? There's so much potential for romance/sexiness/metaphor/drama with them. Something about vulnerability, I think. I'm glad you like my writing so much, and you're right, I probably could have slowed things down a little, but I was getting impatient for everyone's thoughts. I have a tendency to stylize dramatically---like you said, swirling emotions, swirling imagery. So much fun. Thanks for the fantastic review!!  
  
Oklina: *blush* How can I refuse such enthusiasm? Here's your update. Enjoy!  
  
Lethe Seraph: Ha! I know what you mean. I'm sitting here, typing away madly because I want to get to a point where they WILL kiss...and it's driving me up the wall! Let's hope they do it soon!  
  
Bakura: Lest we forget, YOU'RE the writer, Marier. As far as this story is concerned, you own the collective fate of these characters *although not Yu-Gi-Oh as a whole* so stop---*aghast* I didn't just---did I---  
  
Aria: *smirks* Thanks for doing the disclaimer, Bakura.  
  
Bakura: I hate you.  
  
Chibisaxoxox: Hot, cold, chills, sweat...god I love temperature. It's the greatest metaphor...and look! Here's the next chapter! So put away the cheese grater...please.  
  
Yami Hoshiko: Aww, you're going to make me blush with all these compliments! Thanks for the encouragement! Here's the new chapter!  
  
Kimi no vanilla: None taken. I see your point...hypothermia as a whole is life-threatening and awful and not romantic at all...but it was really more a means to an end. Think of it this way...alone, Seto freezes and he needs Joey to warm him up. I know you liked Persuasion, so I'm trying to live up to expectations. Hope you like this one!  
  
Katsuki: Thanks! I glad you like it. Here, have an update, on me.  
  
Riskygamble: Excellent...another reviewer! *cackles madly* Um...ahem. Glad you like my story. Thanks for the review!  
  
Kagemihari: Wow! You like me! Or, rather, my writing, which is basically the same thing. Thanks for the glowing review! I find I have a tendency to write fairly stylistically, so I use these stories as a kind of sounding board, to see what does or doesn't make sense. I love wind, too. Enjoy!  
  
Coon Queen: Glad you still like it! Ah, imagery. A writer's best friend. Read on and let's find out what's in store for these two lovebirds!  
  
Tammi1: You've been one of the most dependable reviewers...I don't think you've missed reviewing a chapter once! Thanks for all the support, I really appreciate it. I'm glad you like my style...keep reading! Your reviews help keep me enthusiastic about this story!  
  
Evil Izz: Here you go. I agree...Seto's gotta be taken charge of for once. Yay for cute Kaiba!  
  
Sakura-chan: Thanks! I'm glad you like this so much. I hope you like this next chapter too!  
  
Aria: Thanks to all my reviewers! This helps so much...I love all this support. And because of you, I've begun writing this chapter much sooner than I thought I would! But, between chapters, if you felt like it, I think some of you might also like my other Seto/Jou fic, Persuasion. I'm shameless. But I have that feeling that if you like this one, you might like that one too. Alright! Read on, dear fellows! Into the breach!  
  
RESCUE  
  
Chapter Six: Inertia  
  
His head hurt.  
  
He blinked a couple of times. Darkness surrounded him---a kind of sleepy warm darkness that settled comfortably around him like a blanket, heavy and warm. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine that the solid warmth over him was not a thick comforter but instead the thickness of the dark itself, cozying up against his skin smoother than silk and blood-warm.  
  
So different from the dark of his dream---the biting, cold cruel shadows that seduced him---slipped around him---tugged at him---he shivered, a little, and felt skin rubbing on cloth with a kind of vengeful delight.  
  
Ha, he thought. I'm still alive.  
  
And wasn't that a triumph of sorts?  
  
Something at the side of the bed rustled and he froze, trying to blink the now cloying darkness out of his eyes, trying to see what was in the room with him. He heard a yawn, saw an arm stretch up, up, and suddenly anger washed through him, hot, as he remembered the life-giving warmth that had saved him, remembered the heat rushing through him from Joey's fingers on him, from Joey's eyes on him---  
  
A movement, a scuffle, and Joey levered himself up from where he'd been sitting, his back against the bed. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the warmth and darkness had overcome his weak defenses and he'd slipped deliciously into sleep, free for once from dreams of wind and biting shadows and vertigo---he yawned jaw-crackingly, brushing his hair out of his eyes with long fingers, and then cautiously leaned over the still figure lumped in layers of thick blankets and soft comforter. He thought he'd moved, but---  
  
"Kaiba?"  
  
No response. He tried again, a little louder.  
  
"Kaiba? You awake?" The other didn't move, but Joey thought he saw the shadow of a blink, thought he saw a glimmer of cerulean blue cut through the darkness before the eyes shut tightly again.   
  
Annoyance bit sharply at him. He'd saved the guy's life, and this was the thanks he got? The hell with that, he thought, and fumbled for a second at the bedside table, switching on the lamp there.  
  
Aha. There---a twitch of the eyelids as they clamped down tight. He leaned down and pulled up the thermos that had been sitting next to him. "Rise and shine, Kaiba," he said easily.  
  
A shift, and now the blue eyes were wide open and glaring balefully at him.  
  
"Is there any good reason why you're still here, mutt?"  
  
That raspy voice hit him like a bucketful of cold water, but he shook it off and concentrated on pouring hot soup from the thermos into a mug. Just like old times, he thought, and thrust the mug toward Kaiba, but with a twist.   
  
This time, I'M in charge.  
  
"Here," he said noncommittally. Kaiba arched one silky brown brow, and Joey gritted his teeth. Losing his temper now would NOT be a good thing. Count to ten. Take a breath. "Soup. It'll warm you up."  
  
"I'm plenty warm."  
  
Count to ten. Count to ten.  
  
One. Two. Three.  
  
"Drink it!"  
  
They glared at each other, seconds ticking off behind them as blue locked into brown and brown glared back at blue until Kaiba blinked and looked away and took the steaming mug.  
  
Joey went to set the thermos down on the polished wood of the bedside table, waiting to make a crack about how it would leave a ring but no challenge came. Surprised, he turned to see Kaiba sitting up with the comforter fallen into soft contours at his waits, his hands wrapped around the mug, staring into the rising steam. He stood there, wondering, but then Kaiba looked up and met his gaze.  
  
Something in his chest made a sharp sideways hop, and he felt heat seeping into the hand that still held the thermos, moving through his veins, pounding in his temples, rising until he felt flushed and feverish. He hurriedly put the thermos down.  
  
"What, don't like that kind?" he joked weakly, feeling a desperate need for distraction. Blue eyes only looked up at him, through him, blank and alien, and then they turned away, leaving Joey with a wash of relief. Only Kaiba could make him feel like a pinned, still squirming bug.  
  
"It's fine." His voice was a little raspier than usual, but he imagined that would disappear soon.  
  
Silence.  
  
"So..." Joey pushed his hair back again, searching desperately for something to say. Without the fights and insults that were routine, safe, he felt woefully out of place. "Better drink it. Doctor said to give you something hot when you woke up."  
  
Kaiba nodded but didn't move.   
  
Silence stretched.  
  
Joey shifted awkwardly, thought of a dozen things to say, and, not speaking any of them, slumped to the floor, leaning up against the bed. What was there to say? That was his sworn enemy there, and he'd just saved his life, and now he was waiting while the cold-hearted bastard ate his soup. What do you say in a situation like that? He somehow couldn't see himself joking with Kaiba the way he would with Tristan, couldn't see himself opening up to him like he would with Yugi, asking him what had led to finding him shaking cold and frozen on the pool tiles was also completely out of the question---and yet he'd held him up under a shower of warm water, tried to warm him back to life---  
  
He shrugged inside his damp clothes, wondering how it would have felt to have that super-heated water hit his skin, trail the lines of his eyebrows, jaw, and muscles like fingers, like Kaiba's fingers, the two of them standing under a rush of steaming water that hit them like kisses that burned---  
  
"Joey."  
  
He jumped and flushed guiltily, shaking his head, trying to clear it of sudden steam.  
  
"What?"  
  
Silence. He imagined pale fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of the mug, relaxing, tightening, relaxing.  
  
"Dare I ask how you knew to use the shower?"  
  
He shrugged against the fall of the bedspread. "I read it somewhere." He waited. No insult, no crack about his reading skills, or lack thereof. No reply.  
  
Desperate to fill the silence, he grasped at straws. "It was in this book," he offered. "It said that the worst thing to do for someone who's frozen is to wrap them up, because that'll just trap the cold in. The best thing to do, it said, was to use hot water."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Aside from that---it seemed the best thing to do. I mean, to warm you up."   
  
Kaiba nodded, but he didn't speak.  
  
They sat again in silence, a living breathing silence as impermeable as darkness and warm around them---lengthening---stretching---  
  
Joey got up and stretched. "Take your time," he said, without turning around, and walked towards the door. He laid his hand on the knob to turn it, to get out of the room, away from the silence between them when---  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He hesitated only slightly before twisting the knob and pushing out into the hallway, before closing the door softly behind him and leaning back against it with a sigh, his heart pounding inexplicably in his chest, pushing blood so fast around him that he was getting light-headed.  
  
He shook his head, put his hands in his pockets, and forced out a whistle as he walked down the hall, his shoes sinking slightly into the thick carpeting. He paused outside an open door down the hall, and grinned, leaning against the doorframe, looking in at the two figures playing video games inside.  
  
"No, no, nononono---noooo! Ah, man, you beat me again, Mokuba!" Tristan flopped melodramatically on the couch, the controller falling from his limp hand as he groaned. Mokuba giggled, and made his ship take a victory lap before turning around and spotting Joey. He jumped up, a huge grin on his face.  
  
"Hey Joey! Look, I beat Tristan! Hey---" his face grew serious. "How's Seto, Joey? He's okay, right?" Clear gray eyes stared into his so solemnly that Joey had to laugh.  
  
"Yeah, Mokuba," he said, coming into the room and ruffling the kid's hair. "Yeah, he's fine."  
  
***  
He wrapped his fingers around the warm mug, stared into the rising steam and tried with all his might not to look at Joey, standing there in the room with him. He longed to say something---anything---one of his old insults would do easily, and yet---and yet---it felt as though his tongue were a separate entity, one not under his control. He couldn't make it move, couldn't form words or coherent sentences or sounds that might even remotely resemble something to say.  
  
He wondered, vaguely, when the last time he'd been tongue-tied was---when, if ever, he hadn't been able to come up with a sharp retort, a biting comment specifically tailored for the exact occasion. He didn't think there WAS a last time. He didn't think there had been a first time, until now. Now, when he stared at the patterns in the curling steam, desperately trying to not mind the silence that flooded the room. He had to say something---but what? Could he really make small talk with the mutt? Never mind that he hated small talk to begin with---but anything to take his mind off the strange feeling he got, looking at Joey, of water rushing over his skin like silk, like delicate fingers of heat and liquid, like delicate long pale fingers brushing through his hair, over his skin, gently, glowing with heat and passion and---  
  
He clamped it down, not moving, fighting some indeterminable inner battle to regain control over his rebellious body. He'd just come back from hypothermia---of course he'd be having strange reactions to temperature change, to whoever saved him---  
  
And let's face it, he thought, suddenly tired and defeated. Joey had saved him. Never mind why or how or any of the specifics---there was the ugly truth right there. Saved me, he thought, sparking another violent internal battle between his innate reaction of wanting to thank Joey and his ground-in determination to make the mutt miserable.  
  
And then Joey got up, and went to the door, and no matter what, he just couldn't let him walk out of there, and maybe he'd have some struggle to contend with too if he heard those words so---  
  
And just as he decided not to say anything, they came out anyway.   
  
"Thank you."  
  
Was that a hesitation? He watched Joey's back, saw the shoulders suddenly go up as if he were trying to block something.   
  
The door opened.  
  
He was gone.  
  
Kaiba looked at the door for a minute, his tired mind trying to tick over events with his accustomed efficiency, but his mind seemed clouded today, as though the steam from the soup was rising in his head, blocking all coherent thought.  
  
Not that he particularly wanted to analyze his reactions towards the mutt.  
  
He caught a sigh before it began, lowered his gaze from the door and took a sip of soup, felt it spread deliciously against his throat, creamy and warm. He smiled. He hadn't had this soup in ages, in years, probably. It was his favorite, and he savored each sip slowly, welcoming the warmth it spread through his stomach. Joey must have asked Mokuba what soup to make for his brother.  
  
Mokuba.  
  
His eyes widened, and the soup turned suddenly bitter in his mouth. Was Mokuba home? What would he think? How much time had passed, anyway? Suddenly frantic, he put the soup down and shoved himself to the side of the bed, swinging his feet over the side and grabbing his bathrobe, ticking mentally through all the places he might find Mokuba, what he would say to him---  
  
And just as suddenly, his arms dropped to his sides, his hands hit the comforter forgotten. What WOULD he tell Mokuba? That he was single-handedly responsible for the possible death of a man? That he'd ripped to shreds yet another competitor? That his bloodthirsty reputation was undoubtedly all over the news and the nets? He hung his head, suddenly bone-tired, wanting only to finish his soup and go back to sleep. He kept his eyes open instead, stared at the floor, ticked off seconds in his head until he could regain control, and then reached for his laptop, sitting innocently on his bedside table.   
  
He had to know.  
  
The door opened as his fingers touched the smooth black metal and plastic, and a small figure bounced in.  
  
"Seto!" it cried delightedly, and he realized it was Mokuba a nanosecond before he leapt up onto the bed to crush his ribcage with a hug. "You're up! I was so worried---hey!" His brother's eyes had caught the movement towards the computer. He got up and pushed it away. "No, Seto. Don't check on anything. I just want you to get better."  
  
"I'm fine," he said. His voice rasped in his throat, raw and painful. He looked away from his brother. Shame burned in him like an open flame, and he couldn't bear to look at Mokuba, couldn't bear to see his shame reflected in the boy's guileless gray eyes. He turned away, but saw instead, the lean figure leaning against the doorframe, one long leg crossed over the other, arms crossed against his lanky chest, staring resolutely through his thick golden bangs at the doorpost.   
  
Anger---heat---shame---rose suddenly through him, leaving him shaken and pale and longing to get rid of Joey Wheeler, kick him yowling out of the house, out of his life, out of his mind.  
  
Mokuba saw him turn away, saw the blood drain from his brother's face, but he mistook it and immediately moved to Seto's side. "Seto?" he said. "Are you okay? Do you want anything?"  
  
He didn't know what to say---Mokuba's movement and concern had caught Joey's attention, try as he might to ignore the room and it's occupants, and he'd looked up, meeting Kaiba's unprotected gaze and sending a sheer wave of physical heat through him. He shivered, prompting Mokuba to try in vain to fix the covers and hand him the soup he'd put down. He glanced at his little brother, saw the concern in his eyes, and something in him gave up. He took the soup and was rewarded by a small grin.  
  
Seeing his brother thus tamed, Mokuba relented. "Here, Seto," he said, pulling the laptop toward him. "I'll check anything for you that you want, okay?"  
  
"No!"  
  
Hot soup splashed over the edge of the mug, soaking the edge of the comforter and landing with a splash on his bare skin. He slammed the laptop shut in Mokuba's hands, his own trembling slightly on the warm black plastic.  
  
He had time to see the shock register on Mokuba's face before the boy levered himself off the bed and walked out past Joey into the hallway. "I'll come see you again later, Seto," he said, turning slightly, and then he walked off down the hallway.  
  
Leaving him with a wet stomach and a trembling hand, still stretched out on the cover of the laptop.   
  
"Mokuba..."  
  
"Jesus, Kaiba, he just wanted to help!"   
  
He looked up to see Joey standing over him, fists clenching angrily. He hates me, he thought with some satisfaction, feeling an odd, familiar coldness ball up in his lower belly. He hates me for what I do and what I've done and who I am. No need to protect myself from Joey Wheeler anymore.  
  
I can handle hate.  
  
He quirked an en eyebrow coolly and looked away, wiping the cold soup off himself with some distaste before throwing on his bathrobe and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He looked up at Joey, noted the blaze rising in his eyes, how his skin paled and then flushed.  
  
Heat, he thought.   
  
Heat.  
  
Water, hot water, coursing over him and bruising his skin like rough kisses, heat rising in him, flooding his body, thawing, melting, burning, steam and boiling water reaching to every point of his body---he saw how Joey flushed again, watched the heat rise in him, longed for it, desired it past anything he had ever thought he'd want.  
  
With a real effort, he clamped down on the images rising, unbidden, to his mind, and came to one decision. He had to get rid of Joey, had to rid himself of this odd sensation that was weakening him---weren't his muscles shaking? But it wasn't from cold---burning him alive. So he glared, calling on every element of control remaining to him.  
  
Cool, he thought, and as he thought it, he felt his blood slow just a bit in its headlong rush around his body.   
  
Control.  
  
He thought about standing up, concentrating on keeping his muscles under control, his breath, his pulse under control. Cool. He was taller than Joey, could use his height to regain control---but he decided against it, testing his muscles and feeling their shaky response.  
  
Joey took a step back, still seething.  
  
"I knew you were a creep, Kaiba, but that's your little brother you just sent packing. And hell, he was just trying to help! And so am I, dammit. You might show a little gratitude for me saving your life."  
  
He watched as Kaiba looked back at his computer. That goddamned cold-hearted bastard---he was used to being frozen out, but seeing Mokuba shunted aside hit him hard. At least Kaiba wasn't separated forcefully from his brother the way Joey had lost Serenity. And he meant to say so, meant to smack some sense into the guys head but then Kaiba looked up and Joey felt those shivers across his skin again, felt himself shrink and then explode under that cool gaze. He flushed, confused, suddenly battling with a part of himself he hadn't admitted to before, because suddenly his mind was filled with images of Kaiba's long pale fingers sliding gently across his fevered skin, images of those cool blue eyes staring into his, much as they were now---  
  
What did it mean? He wanted to shake himself, to smack his head into a wall a couple of times until he'd beaten it out, whatever it was, until he'd rid himself of those shivers that came over him when he saw Kaiba, until he'd rid himself of the way his chest constricted, his shirt felt too small, something in his ribcage jumped.   
  
But instead he confronted it, confronted him, and it fueled his anger toward the arrogant boy sitting before him and that slim piece of black plastic and metal on his lap.  
  
Kaiba shook a lock of silky brown hair from his eyes and considered him. "I don't need to thank you, mutt. Pulling things from the water is what you retrievers are trained to do, I think."  
  
It flared.  
  
"You'd better shut your mouth, Kaiba, before I decide to do it for you."  
  
One silky brown eyebrow arched, and he could see Kaiba was considering the challenge, and as he thought it, his anger evaporated. He only wanted to prove something---anything---to wipe that stupid smirk off Kaiba's face, to rid him of that ridiculous look of fear that still glittered deep in the blue eyes.  
  
He almost smiled, almost nodded to that voice in his head.  
  
And then waited.  
  
He didn't have to wait long.  
  
Kaiba smirked, the challenge gleaming in his eyes, his mouth quirked in cool good humor. "Oh, I don't know, about that, mutt. You never were very good at word games."  
  
Joey grinned grimly, and stepped forward, noting with pleasure the way Kaiba's eyes widened, the way he shrank into himself, the way a flush became slightly visible against his pale skin. Saw an odd fear rise in the blue eyes.  
  
So. Kaiba was trying to control something as well. He planted his hands on either side of the seated boy, and his grin widened.  
  
"Who said anything about words?"  
  
He didn't know if Kaiba tried to move, tried to say something, because in the indeterminable seconds that stretched between them, he felt Kaiba's warm breath on his cheek and his mind flared.  
  
And then, closing his eyes, he threw caution to the winds, bent his head, and pressed his lips gently---so gently---like sunlight, like water---to Kaiba's.  
  
And then there was nothing except the pounding of his heart in his ears, the silence of the room, and the small movements of Kaiba's mouth against his.  
  
Warm.  
  
He felt the familiar shivers return, felt them skitter across his skin in waves of warmth---of heat---he burned and he wanted more---more heat but already Kaiba was shifting under him so instead of pressing for more, he burned the feel and taste of Kaiba into his mind, satisfying for once that nagging voice in the back of his head---and moved back.  
  
He stared into the warmth of blue eyes, and was swallowed.  
  
***  
  
Aria: *looking slightly shell-shocked* Whoa *looks back*. They kissed. I don't know whether I should be surprised or happy that I pulled it off...what do you think? Leave me a review and let me know! And don't worry, this isn't the end. Just because I didn't leave it with as big a cliff-hanger as usual doesn't mean that it's over---there is more to come. Oh yes. And here's a challenge! Who can name me the book where Joey read what to do with hypothermia? I'll give you a hint---it isn't a first-aid book. Whoever guesses right will...um...get something nice. I haven't decided yet. But I need reviews to keep me going! So leave one and let me know what you think! Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. 


	7. Control

Aria: Holy shnyckies. That's a lot of reviews for one chapter. Hey, Bakura! They like me!  
  
Bakura: You know, "denial" ain't just a river in Egypt. And HOW many times have I told you not to hug me?!?  
  
Aria: But...you're fluffy.  
  
Bakura: You DIDN'T just say that.  
  
Aria: Of course not. Besides, you're just pissed off that I haven't written about you yet.   
  
Bakura: *pales*  
  
Aria: Bwhahaha. Um, so, to my reviewers:  
  
Animom: I know...I try so hard to avoid clichŽ and then I fall for one of the most obvious ones out there...but it seemed to fit at the time. I might take it out when I go back and edit...but I'm not sure yet. Thanks for the DVD advice, too. And, no, it isn't the Worst Case Scenario Handbook. Good guess, though.  
  
Kinsako: Here! Enjoy!  
  
Dillon: Hey, no problem. Good to see you around at the Lair, too. Good vibes headed your way. Glad you liked the shower scene---I wasn't sure I could write that without going limey, but I wasn't sure I really wanted to go there. Thanks!  
  
Angel and Tala: Thanks for the...umm...support. *grins* Good to see you're on my side. Hope you like the update.  
  
Chys: Your wish is my command. Thanks for the double review (here and at the Lair)  
  
Lady Jane: Thank you and thank you. I take "lovely" and "unique" as two very high compliments. Anyway, I'm glad you've found it, and I hope you keep reading!  
  
Kimi no vanilla: Ah, excellent. Glad you liked the kiss...it always is sort of a problem, getting that first kiss in there. It almost always seems way too abrupt or forced...I must have rewritten that scene ten times. Thanks!  
  
Sakata Ri Houjun: The reason I use the dub names is because when I started writing this, I only saw the dubs. Since then, I've gotten some DVDs and I love hearing the original Japanese...and even though I now think of, for example, Joey as Jou, I still think "Tristan" and "Tea". *shrugs* So we'll see.  
  
Vappa: No problem! You've reviewed now, and I appreciate it. I'm glad you like my style and the kiss...hope you like this chapter too!  
  
Shousetsuka1: Thanks. Here, have some more!  
  
Hyakuhei: Heehee. Yay for nasty cliffhangers. I admit, those seem to be occurring a lot with my stories of late...  
  
Callisto Firestarter: Good guess, but no. Now come back to life, so you can read this next chapter!  
  
Kagemihari: Yay! Thanks for the great review!   
  
Lethe Seraph: Hahaha! I'm psyched you like my story so much. I was so excited when I finally got a point where I could get them to kiss! I was really grinning like an idiot for an hour afterward. Very silly. Anyway, this chapter opens with Kaiba's reaction, so...  
  
Yami Hoshiko: You're right, I DO work hard on this, but I'm still flabbergasted whenever I get any notice, especially to the extent that this story has gotten. And yes...THEY KISSED! Believe me, I was just as surprised as you.  
  
GreenLeaf33: Thanks for the great review and the shout-out in the LJ community. I love the icon!  
  
Aria: As an aside, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Dillon, who has had a rough patch (involving apple jelly) and is really one of the coolest people I have never actually met, and to Animom, for all your help with both DVD and writing advice and the fantastic support I get from both of you. Hope you like it!   
  
Also, I'm offering up, as a prize, to the first person to correctly guess the title of the book, a one-shot of the pairing of your choice. Here's a clue: the book is SCIFI/FANTASY, and it's written by one of the people who co-wrote "Good Omens". Good luck!  
  
Onward!  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned YGO, I wouldn't be a poor college student. And yet here I am, in my dorm room. Funny how that works.  
  
RESCUE  
  
Chapter 7: Control  
  
His mind went white.  
  
The smallest things were making a huge impression on him---the way the cloth of his robe lay loosely against his skin, the way his breath and pulse echoed under the buzz of silence in his ears, the way Joey's mouth lay---moved---against his. So gently.  
  
Like sunlight.  
  
Like water.  
  
Did he close his eyes? Did it matter? His mind was still spinning from exhaustion and still weak from the effects of nearly freezing and then being revived by his worst enemy who was now kissing him.  
  
Oh God, his mind whispered, but softly, because this was new, this was different, he hated it, he longed, suddenly, desperately, for more, recognizing slowly the shivers of heat that flicked across his skin, the waves of warmth that moved against him the way Joey's mouth moved against him and then there was a hesitation, a moment of warm breath that smelled---tasted---like apples and then the pressure was gone, the warmth fled and Joey pulled back, opened his eyes---he closed his eyes, Kaiba caught himself thinking, feeling a sharp thrill---and looked up.  
  
I'm falling, he thought, as he felt the wind from his dream circle his ankles, his wrists, his body, cold and teasing and seductive. He saw a flash of heat in the honey-clear eyes, and panicked, felt fear sprint exquisitely up his nerves, and stood suddenly, practically tossing Joey out of his way in his haste to be up and out and away.  
  
He suddenly longed to be in his dream, to fall out into the cold wind that tore at him.  
  
"Kaiba..." Joey's eyes were hard, dark, flickering with captive heat. He stood, straightened, brushed his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes.  
  
They looked at each other, for an instant that was really forever, and Kaiba thought he saw two Joeys, one that stood across from him with an eyebrow lifted rebelliously, arms crossed over his narrow chest, and then one who pushed over to him and ran long fingers over the sensitive skin of his neck and jaw line, gripped the back of his neck and pulled his head down, hard, laid his mouth on Kaiba's again. He could feel that heated kiss, tasted apples. He could feel that Joey's mouth against his, could feel a hand trailing, slowly, down the skin laid bare and inviting by his open robe. He could feel the heat of that Joey reverberating through his body, and realized uneasily that he almost wanted it. Did want it.  
  
Wanted it. Wanted Joey.  
  
But then there was that other Joey, and the other Joey acted out the other path, split the two futures in one movement and then brought them back together so that Kaiba's double-sight was gone and he could see clearly as Joey turned, walked out the door and down the hallway, one hand in his pocket.   
  
The world swirled.  
  
***  
  
Outside, safe in the hall, Joey leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths and trying to get his hammering pulse back to a normal speed and pressure. The blood was cycling through his body at an alarming rate, making him light-headed, making the solid world around him spin annoyingly. How could he focus on what just happened when the floor was tipping up and down?  
  
He heard a rustle from the room down the hall, and shot from his leaning position, shoved one hand in his pocket and another into the dark gold mass of his hair, taking refuge in his usual habits, as his pulse abruptly soared. He sent a quick prayer to the impassive ceiling that Kaiba wouldn't come out into the hallway, and waited for a tense second as he tried to think of ways to not LOOK tense, or at all as if anything out of the ordinary had happened.  
  
'So, how you feeling, Kaiba? Warmer? 'Coz you look pretty hot...' He pictured it, and winced, grinning a little foolishly to himself. Another thought edged its way in, and he grinned to picture it: 'Hey Kaiba, you've got some soup on your lip. Let me get that for you...'  
  
He flushed a little, looking quickly at the door but Kaiba didn't come out and he turned, a small weight lifted, throwing the ceiling a "hey, thanks" look and conspiratorial wink.  
  
He hoped his mind would take a little while to catch up---he didn't think too much of the self-explanation, self-analysis, self-psychotherapy idea, but knew it well all the same---and waited fatalistically for his mind to start screeching.  
  
After all, he HAD kissed the guy.  
  
A guy.  
  
He shrugged a little, and sighed a little, and kept walking. Not like it was that huge a deal---he had kissed and been kissed by plenty of people and come to the conclusion that it really didn't matter what sex they were as long as there was some kind of chemistry. Not that he ran around shouting this to the skies---he didn't DO labels---but there it was. And---he paused for a second, frowning.  
  
That had been some pretty intense chemistry.  
  
A shadow stirred in his mind, a little voice snickered.  
  
So it wasn't so much that he had kissed a guy, as much as it was he had kissed Kaiba---and Kaiba had kissed him back. Kind of. In a shell-shocked, holy-shit kind of way.   
  
He grinned a little, and went to watch Mokuba beat Tristan at some more video games.  
  
***  
  
Kaiba stood in his room, waiting for his body to catch up with his mind and start moving---although, to be perfectly honest, he argued with himself, it wasn't as though he particularly longed to act on the impulses his traitorous mind was sending his equally traitorous and extremely, annoyingly compliant body.   
  
So he waited for control, until he had his inner rebellions quashed and had blocked all confusions from his mind.  
  
Until that last taste of apple was gone from his mouth.  
  
If he'd been able to see himself, however, he would have despaired of ever regaining even a modicum of control, since the shell-shocked look on his face and rigid body gave away far more than he realized. In his mind, he was regaining utmost control, cooling those flushes of passion and reactions with perfected walls and locks, while his visceral self---the self that was shocked and pleased and had kissed Joey back---harbored itself quietly away in his body and his muscle memory, in the slowly slowing pulse and the deeper, more regular breaths, awaiting a more opportune time to sneak unsuspected images and ideas across Kaiba's mind. It was this visceral, intuitive self that reluctantly gave back control of his body, retreating as he paced across the room, still fighting down the feeling of Joey's mouth on his, ignoring the ensuing shivers and pulling on clothes with a vengeance that the unoffending pieces of material hardly deserved. Moving back to the bed, he glared at the rumpled sheets and comforter, as though they has imbibed some essence of the weakness he had shown, as though they represented, somehow, the comfortable rough warmth of Joey. Not to mention this unfamiliar chaotic frame of mind.   
  
His hand rested lightly on the laptop, and he hesitated for a moment before picking it up and packing it away in its carry-case. That done, he stood in the middle of the room for a second, contemplating his next course of action. Already his mind was beginning to click back into its accustomed, efficient cycles, effectively banishing outside stimulus and circling in on itself, empty of emotion and passions.  
  
Empty.  
  
He turned swiftly and left the room.  
  
His mind was already ticking over things he needed to deal with---an entire day of work had been lost, and with yesterday's fiasco he could hardly afford that. Time-tables rushed through levels of his brain, adapting and edited as he prioritized, barely noticing as he threw on his customary blue coat, feeling the weight of it settle around him comfortably, not noticing at all as Mokuba padded into the hallway, followed by shouts of laughter an open doorway further down the hall.  
  
"Where are you going, Seto?"  
  
He could feel his back stiffening, felt his body fall into its usual passive-aggressive pose, his back straightening, his shoulders back and his arms by his sides, one hand tucked into a pocket and the other grasping the silver handle of his briefcase. He flicked out his keys.  
  
"Out." He didn't look up.  
  
"Out?" Mokuba was incredulous. "Seto, come on, you're supposed to get rest, work can wait---"  
  
He turned now, and looked at his little brother. Something deep in him tried to move, but he quashed it, turned a cool gaze on the smaller figure. "I'll be back later," he said. "Don't wait up."  
  
"But---"  
  
"Don't argue with me, Mokuba. And get those two clowns out of the house. I don't want them here when I get back."  
  
Crest-fallen, Mokuba nodded. "Alright, Seto. But when---"  
  
"Later." His voice still rasped. Anger suddenly flared, and he turned abruptly, trying to ignore the look in Mokuba's eyes.  
  
He had more important things to worry about.  
  
***  
  
"Oh come on, come on, come---no! Not again! Dammit, Tristan, if I didn't know you're a pillar of morality, I'd swear you'd been cheating."  
  
Tristan laughed, and flopped back into the squashy black leather of the couch. "Aw, Joey," he said. "I never knew you cared."  
  
"Like hell I do, you cone-headed freak. Hey, where'd Mokuba go? He needs to come back in here and school your scrawny butt. Get your head back down to normal size." Joey laughed as Tristan flung himself over and began pummeling him good-naturedly.   
  
"The only schooling going on here is what I'm going to do to you. Lost your touch, have we? I thought video games were your area of expertise, Joey. You're just jealous that my innate talent has surpassed your lucky streak."  
  
"Whatever," Joey said, blocking the flailing arms and laughing. "It's just that you've been spending so much time in your own little fantasy world that a virtual existence is practically your natural habitat now."  
  
Tristan snorted. "MY fantasy world?"  
  
"You know, the one where Serenity actually likes you."  
  
Between laughing so hard he could barely breathe and tumbling with Tristan, half on, half off the couch, he didn't really notice when Mokuba came in. Especially since the kid was unnaturally quiet.  
  
It wasn't until he'd pinned Tristan that he finally looked up, and seen the kid sitting at the end of the corner, a small smile at one corner of his mouth.  
  
"Oh, hey Mokuba," he said, grinning. "We were just talking about you. I think Tristan needs another butt-kicking to burst this bubble he's living in---whoa!" He yelped in surprise as Tristan threw him off and pinned him against the couch, leaning heavily back into him. "Tristan," he gasped. "Can't...breathe..."  
  
His friend settled against him a little more solidly and winked at Mokuba. "Upstart, this one," he said, nodding back to Joey, who was gasping theatrically, pinned between Tristan's broad back and the unmoving couch. "Has no respect for his betters."  
  
"Hah!" Joey managed to wheeze out. He felt as though his bones were rearranging themselves. Much as he wanted to "rearrange" Tristan. "The only thing better about you is the quality of hair gel you use. Seriously, man, you use super glue to get that to stay?"  
  
"Ah, Joey," Tristan intoned in a deep, fatherly voice. "You have much to learn, my son."  
  
"Yeah," said Joey. "Like how I'm your son even though you ain't even a year older than me."  
  
Tristan grimaced.  
  
"So, Mokuba," Joey wheezed, sending the boy a pained smile, "will you teach this punk a lesson and get him offa me, please?"  
  
Tristan shook his head slowly. "Shameless, Joey, shameless." But he got off, and Joey sat against the couch for a moment, wheezing dramatically. Mokuba smiled slightly, and he realized something was wrong. Usually the kid would have joined right in, being, predictably, less repressed than his icy older brother.  
  
Not that that was a surprise, Joey mused. Third-world nations were less repressed than Seto Kaiba. Monks were less repressed. He could go on and on, but the fun would have to wait. Wincing, he got up and deposited himself next to the kid, watching Tristan set up the game system.  
  
"So," he said conversationally. "How's he doing?"  
  
"Gotta be better than you," Tristan threw over his shoulder.  
  
"Sorry, Mokuba, but I'm about to be rude," Joey said, covering the boy's eyes with one hand and flipping Tristan off with the other, getting a grin from both. He settled a little more comfortably into the squashy leather of the couch, closing his eyes halfway. God, he was tired.  
  
"Oh, I don't know, Joey," Mokuba said, with just a hint of a sigh in his young voice. "The same as ever, I guess."  
  
"That bad, huh?"   
  
"Shuddup, Tristan," Joey said good-naturedly. "So, why you worried, then?"  
  
Mokuba looked crestfallen. "You can tell?"  
  
Joey reached over and ruffled the thick black hair. "I AM an older brother, Mokuba. You pick these things up. So, what's up?"  
  
Mokuba shrugged, watching as Tristan began a game. "I don't know," he said. "It's just---he got in really late last night, and overslept this morning. You don't know how weird it was that I had to go wake HIM up."  
  
"I can imagine," Joey said drily.  
  
"And then he said he couldn't go to school because of work, and then I got home and he's..." He trailed off unhappily. Joey listened quietly, a strange ache gathering in his chest. So, he was right. There WAS something wrong. He just didn't know what.  
  
"And then, the way he freaked about me checking up on work for him...he's never like that. He usually lets me in on everything, and if he's busy than he gets me to check it for him. And now he's gone off to the building and I just want him to stay here and get better!" It came out as a childish explosion, mildly surprising Joey, since Mokuba had always seemed pretty mature for his age. Pretty mature for Joey's age, too...although he usually attributed that particular fluke to his being less fundamentally screwed up than the older Kaiba.  
  
Then his brain caught up.  
  
"Wait," he said, half rising from his lounging position on the couch and staring at Mokuba. "He's not here? He left?!?"  
  
Mokuba nodded. "Yeah."  
  
He bit down on the stream of curses that threatened to flood out of his mouth, and willed himself to calm down.  
  
"Of all the stupid things to do..." he muttered, restricting himself.   
  
Mokuba shrugged. "It must be something to do with work," he said. "That's why he said he wasn't going to school today, anyway."  
  
Surprisingly, it was Tristan who turned and answered, shutting off the game as he did so. "Actually," he said, "I was going to bring this up earlier, but it got pretty chaotic so I forgot about it for a bit. You know I went to KaibaCorp while you came here, right," Joey nodded, "So I had to go talk the receptionist into letting me in. She said Kaiba wasn't there, but she was pretty helpful once I told her we thought something was wrong, and said something weird had been going on yesterday---he'd had her call the entire board and the company lawyers together, and they'd all been locked in a meeting for hours, she said. But she wouldn't let me through, no matter HOW shamelessly I flirted." He winked at Joey.  
  
"Anyway, she got distracted with a bunch of class at one point, so I, ah, slipped on by, and found a computer to check thing out on. Turns out there was an attempted coup yesterday---some poor slob from publicity tried to betray KaibaCorp to this other, smaller company. Diamente, I think it was called. So, anyway, Kaiba calls this emergency meeting yesterday, and around 11 or so they released a statement stating what had happened, and that they'd found the guy who did it, and that he be, ah, 'reprimanded'.  
  
"Trouble is, this morning that same guy was checked into the hospital for severe cuts, all over himself. It looked like a suicide attempt. So they check it out, and they find out the guy's been blacklisted---so he's not just not working at KaibaCorp anymore, but he's not working at any entertainment corporations, period."  
  
Joey started, his jaw loose. Was he serious?  
  
"But that was this morning," Tristan said. "It turns out, this afternoon they got a call from his usual doctor, who said the guy was prone to panic attacks and was on medication---so they did a check and it turned out he hadn't been taking his meds for about a week, maybe more. And then they checked with the hospital, which told them that at first glance it looked suicidal, but that the guy---Daniels, I think---has old scars all over his arms and legs. Used to cut himself, and he'd gotten drunk when he found out about the blacklist, hadn't taken his meds, had a panic attack and went back to his old ways. At least, that seems to be pretty much the case," he said, shifting slightly.  
  
Mokuba was staring, his mouth working slightly, his eyes wide pools of horror.  
  
"No wonder Kaiba's freakin' out," Joey mused. It all made a kind of sense, in a twisted, sick and disturbed kind of way. "So when he left school yesterday, it must have been to set up that emergency meeting. And then, today, he found out about Daniels and flipped...wow." He ran a hand absent-mindedly through his hair, wondering at the strange turn of events...and at finding himself with the unexpected experience of pitying Seto Kaiba.   
  
But all thoughts of sympathy for the elder Kaiba took backseat once he took a look at Mokuba. Tears were swelling in the clear gray eyes, although Mokuba's face had the tight, pinched look of someone trying not to cry. "Hey," Joey said uneasily. "Hey, Mokuba, it's okay. It'll be fine. Your brother can definitely take care of himself."  
  
Now the eyes were turned on him, and Joey's heart twisted to see the unhappiness there. "I thought that," Mokuba said. "But if he can take care of himself so well, how come he needed so much help today? Seto would never put himself into that kind of risk...so why now?"  
  
Joey shook his head, at a complete loss. "I don't know, Mokuba, but I'm willing to help if you want me to."  
  
The kid brightened immediately. "Would you?"  
  
"Absolutely," Joey said, giving him a wink.  
  
"Then you wouldn't mind going over to make sure he's okay?" Mokuba pressed, looking warily at Joey, who laughed.  
  
"I guess not...but right now?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
He grinned. "Alright, then. But listen, you'd better stay here, with Tristan." The other boy nodded, and patted a seat beside him. "He'll keep you entertained while I go sort this out."  
  
He swung his worn, comfortable jacket over him, and turned to go out the door. "You two be good, okay?"  
  
"We will be," Mokuba said, grinning. "And Joey...thanks."  
  
He softened a little. "No problem, Mokuba."  
  
A minute later he shouldered his way out the door, silently cursing the cold-hearted bastard, for making Mokuba worry.  
  
For making him worry.  
  
***  
  
The building was cool, thrumming with the busy silence of sleeping machines. His footsteps fell thinly on the tiles as he pushed through the familiar glass doors to the main lobby and through to the elevators until he was cocooned in a cylinder of steel and glass, rising swiftly to the top of the glittering tower.  
  
His heart rate had returned to its normal, slow pound while he'd been thinking, his mind attaining that perfect level of cool, rational analysis necessary to the company's survival.   
  
To his survival.  
  
After all, he mused, watching as the bright points of light that were the city in the dark fell beneath him, this is how I am. To trust yourself and only yourself is the best way to live, to work, to be. He didn't have time to ask others for the opinions, couldn't depend on anyone other than himself not to mess things up. After all, hadn't he been, once again, the one to take charge yesterday? The one who single-handedly pulled the company out of ruin? Hadn't he always taken care of Mokuba by himself  
  
So why had it suddenly become too much for him?  
  
He watched the dropping lights impassively, skipping deliberately over these useless reflections. Useless they were, indeed. He had no time to question his own resources, could only continue as he knew how. Cool, efficient.   
  
Alone.  
  
The light at the top of the elevator flashed, once, and he gripped his briefcase with one hand while the doors slid smoothly open, walking into the glass-walled office where he worked his days and nights and life away, moving to the large, glossy desk and placing the briefcase on it.  
  
But then he did something unknowingly strange.  
  
Instead of seating himself at the desk, taking out his laptop and files and folders and papers, he walked past the desk, trailing his fingers gently along the polished wood, leaving a streak of misted over gloss, and moved to stand before one of the large windows, looking out through and past his own reflection to the brilliant points of light beneath and around him. He could see the ghostly version of himself in the glass, and thought abruptly that this was the real version of Seto Kaiba, trapped here, a ghost of himself in cold, silent, transparent glass.  
  
So he stood for a long time.  
  
When he moved next, it seemed dreamlike, his fingers moving softly over the glass, his eyes slightly unfocused as he placed one hand flat against the glass, feeling the hum of the wind outside and the heat from his palm being sucked out into the dark.  
  
Like his dream.  
  
He thought, then, of cold, tempting winds, of the freedom and the solitude and the cold comfort they offered---closed his eyes and thought of falling down into the dark, into the swirling dark of a cold wind, away from a sudden vision of Owen Daniels sitting in a room alone, drawing a knife slowly over his arms, watching the sinuous path of blood appearing silently; away from the bitter cold and helplessness of freezing slowly in the clear comfort of water; away from the shivers and insecurities and waves of undefinable sensations that flooded him whenever he was in contact with Joey.  
  
Contact.  
  
He craved it, suddenly, viciously, longed for it---a terrible, exquisite torture that snapped through him like a blade, like a needle, coppery and sweet and utterly terrible. He flung himself suddenly against the glass, against the ghost of himself that he saw there, flung himself into the solid, unyielding glass and it hurt, but he still pressed himself into it, his eyes closed now and his breath sobbing in his throat as he fell into a vision of warm autumn sunlight flooding over dappled water, through flaming fall-changed leaves, warming apples that fell with soft thuds in an orchard, that tasted sweet and crisp and warm, that he had tasted on Joey's lips, on Joey's breath---all these things were somehow represented by Joey---his warmth, his life, his laughter and glowing golden-brown, autumn-gold eyes---and he closed his eyes tighter, wishing they would go away, longing, desperately, for them to become real, pushing against the glass as if it were his prison, as if he were no longer himself but the reflection he saw so clearly now in the window, caught and unable to move, to change, to exist outside himself.  
  
"Out."   
  
His voice was rough and quiet and ragged with stress.  
  
"Let me out."  
  
His hand slid down the cold glass, found the handle to the window.  
  
"Let me out!"  
  
The window flung open and he was immediately engulfed in a wild, streaming wind, looking out, as the wind sent cold fingers teasing through the room.  
  
He stared down into the darkness.   
  
The wind whipped around him, dragging at his arms, his legs like a lover, teasing at his coat, pulling at his clothes. How easy to just fall, to let go into the loving cold wind, out and away and down and out and down...  
  
He leaned forward, his eyes closed. How easy, letting go.  
  
Except it wasn't easy anymore, there was something holding him back, there was something linked around his waist, holding him back and safe and warm and wanted. He looked down in astonishment at the arms that wrapped solidly around his waist, but his gaze was caught by a wisp of wheat-sun-autumn gold that flicked by his eye.  
  
He smelled apples.  
  
***  
  
Aria: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, but it was the hardest so far to write. I wanted to put in more of the character's reactions to things, as well as to introduce outside elements to Joey and Seto's sudden dilemma...The Joey/Tristan thing was fairly spur-of-the-moment, and I have to wonder if Tristan, as I've written him, has a crush on Joey? Hmm. What do you think? Just a thought. Anyway, please review, as they make my dreary stressful college life much happier, and keep me writing! 


	8. Vertigo

Aria: Excellent. More reviews! I live and breathe on these. They mean I'm not a failure.  
  
Bakura: That's what YOU think. Are you ready to end this stupid story now?  
  
Aria: *sigh* Yes. Sad, but true. This is, in fact, the last chapter of "Rescue"...but before I leave this, I'd like to thank all my loyal reviewers. You guys have kept me inspired and enthusiastic about this story, and I hope to see you all again soon! But for now:  
  
Animom: I love that my story has such an effect...you've been a great support and I've very much appreciated all your reviews. You've read Persuasion and Red and Black, too! You must like me! I'm glad you liked last chapter so much...it WAS dedicated to you, after all. I hope this chapter is up to standards...enjoy.  
  
Kinsako: Kill Seto? Perish the thought! That WOULD be unforgivable.  
  
Emme1: Thanks, and thank you also for all your reviews.  
  
Dillon: It was both planned AND inspired, heehee. Here's the thing---free association has a large hand in my writing, and I love associating characters with certain aspects, like smells. Joey reminds me of vanilla, apples, ginger, autumn, sunshine. So back in ch. 5 , I wanted to add another level to Joey's interaction with Seto, so I had him eat an apple...and not Neverwhere, but good guess.  
  
Kagemihari: Yeah, I love Mokuba, too. Especially the way he can interact with both Yugi's group and his brother on such an easy level. Heehee, I've been reading too many Tristan/Jou fics...I didn't even realize I might have written him that way until I looked back! I'm glad you like this so much. I think it's my favorite story that I've written so far.  
  
ColeyCarissa: Thanks!  
  
Oklina: Fall is my favorite season, too. And since Joey and I are both autumn blondes (dark blonde w/brown eyes) I think it really fits! Hope you like this last chapter!  
  
Shousetsuka1: Heehee...thanks! Would you believe I had it all planned that way? I knew I was going to use that scene, I just didn't know how or when.  
  
Sakata Ri Houjun: No worries, I don't do death fics. They're way too sad...I prefer angst, since there's always a satisfactory way of getting out of it. And about Honda...well, I think my next story is going to involve him. I don't think he gets NEARLY enough love.  
  
Yami Hoshiko: Wow, you're enthusiastic. I'm so glad you like it this much...I certainly hope this chapter is up to par. And we'll see about those kisses *wink*  
  
Starflower Sakura: The message board is fun. And I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update...writer's block is a terrible thing.  
  
Maki: *blushes* Thank you! It's my goal to someday be a real writer, after all, so I'm very flattered. I'm glad you like my story.  
  
Luna-sky: Hey, you read Persuasion too! You must like me! And it certainly did brighten my day. Thanks!  
  
Sakura-chan: Yes, they kissed! I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with that...although I figured it would happen sooner or later. Ah, Kaiba as human. Something the dubbers seem to ignore *RANT* Thanks for the great reviews!  
  
Aria: Finally! The 8th chapter! And yes, it is the final one, but I can almost certainly promise a sequel. There's so much more to write! However, I first need to thank Dillon, without whom there might not have been this 8th chapter. Thanks for the inspiration, Dil, it really helped a lot. Alright! Onward, and "if a do blench!" Hmm. Maybe I'll keep the Hamlet quotes to a minimum...  
***  
  
Chapter 8: Vertigo  
  
He stumbled back, falling, not into the cold, seducing arms of the wind but rather into something warm and solid and alive. He lost his---their?---balance, and fell back, hitting the floor with a thud. Pain shot up his already bruised leg.  
  
"Ow," came a voice from behind---beneath---him, and he realized, belatedly, that he was on top of---entwined with---long limbs tangled familiarly together with---whoever had wrapped their arms around his waist and kept him from falling, kept him from escaping out into the darkness.   
  
And that whoever was wriggling underneath him, cursing in an all-too familiar voice---one that had been circling his mind for what felt like eternity---for seconds that were really days, weeks, months, eons. Eternities.   
  
He wanted to get up, to say something that cut and burned and ashamed, but his muscles rebelled, shaking uncontrollably, not even letting him get up. Rather, he had to roll awkwardly off, his legs and arms suddenly too long, too clumsy, vaguely aware that he was curling up on the floor, away from the now moving figure beside him, feeling that something vital seemed to have split within him, and that something hot and unfamiliar was slipping down his cheek.  
  
If he hadn't known better, he might have thought it was a tear.  
  
He felt the arm beneath him pull away slowly, felt someone shift beside him, but he didn't---wouldn't---look. Couldn't. Didn't have to.   
  
He knew who it was.  
  
Joey looked at the shaking figure next to him uneasily. He'd snapped. That was the only explanation. All that time and work and pressure had finally flooded right over some carefully kept barrier in Kaiba's mind, forcing him to try burning it out with the most controlled means of destruction Joey had ever seen. Of course, his own ways of dealing with stress, while more obvious, were usually just as destructive, on some level.  
  
Although he didn't quite go in for the whole "slowly-killing-yourself-over-your-company" bit.  
  
Not that he had a company to worry about.  
  
But Kaiba was used to this. Kaiba knew how to deal with this kind of problem....he practically thrived on competition and hardball...so what could be bigger than what he'd seen Kaiba handle before?  
  
Stupid, he thought, and wanted to smack himself as he looked down at the prone figure beside him. It wasn't that it was bigger.   
  
It was just the timing. Years of dealing with first the fears and insecurities of a child, doubled, trebled by life in an orphanage with a younger brother to protect---and then years of mental and emotional abuse from the one person who was supposed to make everything better.  
  
And then those most recent years---years of forcing a company into the spotlight, of creating a legacy, of creating an empire---of creating something uniquely his.  
  
And all of that, alone.  
  
He couldn't---didn't want to---imagine it.  
  
And now there was this unknown version of Kaiba---Kaiba! ---shaking on the floor like---like---like he was vulnerable. Like he could be hurt. Like he was real and human, just a person needing comfort, and all Joey wanted to do was to reach out to him so he did. Scuffing himself up, he sat with one leg crossed underneath him, the other still stretched at an angle that would become uncomfortable in a few moments, but he didn't think about that; instead, he was concentrating on the way the blue coat clung to a lean waist, the way it sloped over long legs and spread in a soft puddle on the floor of the office, watching the shivering muscle play on Kaiba's back under the cloth. He barely noticed the dull thudding of his pulse in his head as he reached out to touch Kaiba's shoulder, pretended he didn't notice the way the other boy stiffened at his touch.  
  
"Hey," he said, his voice oddly rough in the cool silence. "Hey, Kaiba, it's okay now, you know. We can take care of everything, right. You can't---you gotta stop doing this---"  
  
He was cut off by a sudden rumbling through Kaiba's body that manifested as sharp pull and twist and then he was up, standing, his shoulders shaking as he looked down at Joey.  
  
"Can't?" he said, and his voice was so ragged that Joey wondered for a moment if Kaiba's breath had ever caught, if it had ever sobbed like that against his throat before. "Can't?" There was a slightly hysterical edge to the voice now, and Joey thought he saw the clear blue eyes cloud ghostly in the dim light. He shivered.  
  
The wind was still slinking in around the edge of the open window, slipping past the glass with an insidious soft moan, and he felt it stir his hair, the edge of his jacket, his shirt, felt it shiver lightly against his warm skin. Without saying anything more to Seto, he got up, walking over and reaching out to shut the open window.  
  
"Don't shut it yet."   
  
He turned, surprised, but could only see the other boy's back, the slightly shaking shoulders.  
  
"But it's cold."  
  
The shoulders shrugged, filling Joey with a sense of uneasiness. This was something new, something unexpected and he wasn't used to it. Like in the hallway the day before, when he was being confronted by something bigger, harder, colder than Kaiba...and it unnerved him, being this close to something that could so shatter Kaiba's usual cool control.  
  
Fights he could handle. He could blaze up indignities and toss them at Kaiba's arrogant head again and again but this...apathy...wasn't something he could react to. He took a step closer, longing, suddenly, for Kaiba to turn, to glare, to bite off an insult and then wait, cool and secure while Joey blustered his way through a defense.  
  
But he didn't. Didn't turn, didn't straighten, and Joey was left feeling bemused and unexpectedly vulnerable.  
  
And remembering soft cool lips moving beneath his own wasn't helping matters.  
  
"Listen, Kaiba," he said, his eyes narrowing. Bluff it out. "I didn't save your ungrateful ass just to let you get pneumonia now. So I'm gonna close this window, and then you and I are going to a have a little chat."  
  
He saw Kaiba's shoulders flinch, saw the back straighten just a touch, felt a glimmer of hope that Kaiba---his well-known, well-hated adversary---was back, but then they fell and his eyes fell, thinking almost longingly about the old Kaiba---the one he knew how to handle---and so he wasn't prepared for what he heard next.  
  
"You always have to be saving someone, don't you, Joey."  
  
It wasn't a question, wasn't even a well-known, easily-reacted-to taunt. It was only a flat, calm, quiet statement---terrifying in its very simplicity. Spoken by the sanest of voices, he could feel the words stinging his throat, tearing at his mouth as he turned to face the other boy, and yet they came, falling onto Joey's flushing face like droplets of scalding hot water. "You have an acutely overdeveloped sense of heroism. Saving Yugi, saving Serenity, saving Mokuba." His mouth snarled, twisted at the words. "Saving Mai."  
  
Saving me.  
  
"But you can't save everyone, can you, mutt? You can't always win a few million dollars to save someone's eyesight, won't always be able to sacrifice yourself to save someone else. Can't always be there, not even to save your worst enemy."  
  
Why was he saying these things? He could see how they hit Joey, saw, for the first time, it seemed, how brown-gold eyes jolted at each new hurt, at each new challenge, and he watched, waiting, for the familiar blaze to rise up, for the flush to take over and for Joey to act.  
  
Heat, he thought.  
  
"Because, after all, Joey, I don't see you saving yourself so well. In fact, it's usually Yugi saving you, isn't that right? Or do you really care so little about yourself that you'd give up everything to save someone you don't even know?"  
  
He tasted the bitterness on his tongue, on his teeth---wished it unsaid, feeling a sharp, sour triumph, and waited for Joey's reaction.  
  
Any reaction.  
  
Joey turned away.  
  
"I would give up everything," he said.  
  
"And gain nothing," Seto replied, disappointed.  
  
"And gain everything."  
  
"You're even more of a fool than I thought, Wheeler." He watched Joey's back through narrowed eyes, trying to ignore his shaking muscles, trying to ignore the numbing chill that was spreading through him, over him, sliding lovingly along his skin, sinking into his bones---and waited to hear Joey's response, thrilled suddenly, when the other boy spun around, anger blazing in his eyes, his hands clenched into fists that squeezed so tight his knuckles whitened.  
  
"What do you know?" he challenged, his whole body furious with sudden anger. Back on familiar ground, he allowed all his pent-up stresses and worries to erupt, fed the growing heated fury that he spat at Kaiba's immovable figure. "What the hell would you know about what I have and don't have, Kaiba? Just 'cause I don't have some huge, important empire doesn't mean I'm nothing. At least I don't hide from the real world behind work and money and backstabbers in three-piece suits! And, Jesus, Kaiba, it's not like you have so much, either. Except Mokuba. And you won't even talk to him! He's so worried about you, and you just shrug him off! So maybe I don't get anything, but at least I'll risk putting myself out there."  
  
"Don't talk to me about risk, Wheeler!" Seto retorted, stung into a response. Joey took an involuntary step back. "I risk my reputation, my empire, every day." The wind was rising---he could hear it screaming against the windows, around the cold steel of the building. It wrapped around him, like a blanket, dulling the outside world, forcing him further into himself.  
  
He stumbled into a nightmare vision of Owen Daniels sitting alone in an empty apartment, watching with fascination the bright blood welling from a slim cut. "If this company is destroyed, I'm destroyed. Mokuba is destroyed. Everything falls apart. Everything is lost."  
  
"Things fall apart, Kaiba," Joey said warily. "But that doesn't mean you should go and try to---try---"  
  
Kaiba blinked himself out of the rising vertigo, crossing his arms and looking at the flushing boy coolly. "Try what?"  
  
"Dammit, Kaiba!" That flare again. Joey felt heat flick across his skin in tongues of sensation. "You know what I mean. The window---"  
  
"Yes, the window." Kaiba quirked one silky brown eyebrow. "I'm surprised you didn't knock me out of it when you came barging in here."  
  
"Knock you ou---dammit, Kaiba, you were the one standing there! If I'd come one second later...in case you haven't been keeping count, that's twice now I've saved you!" Joey spat, feeling heat flare deliciously through him. It fed his anger, fed his fury, blocked invading sensations of cool lips moving against his, cool fingers threading through his hair, of warm---hot---hotter---water streaming over palely translucent skin, turned pink from the heat.  
  
"Yes, I suppose it is," Kaiba said calmly. "Congratulations, Joey, you've finally learned to count."  
  
Joey glared, unsure. "You bastard," he growled, and felt a deep sensation of---was that disappointment? He was disappointed in Kaiba's reaction?  
  
No, he thought, with a sudden fierce clarity. No, I'm not disappointed in Kaiba. After all, wasn't this what he'd come to expect from their encounters?  
  
Disappointed in myself, he thought. It made sense---he'd been fighting against falling back into the fights, into the anger and the jealousy, but he fell for it anyway. Fell for the taunts, the jabs, reacted without thinking, without realizing---  
  
He hated him. Hated the way that silky brown eyebrow quirked up, hated the play of shadows and exhaustion on the pale face, hated the clear intelligence in startlingly blue eyes. Hated how, looking at him, his heart thudded roughly, how his chest felt too small, how heat flooded up his neck and down his back in soft, irresistible waves.   
  
"I wasn't going to jump," Seto said softly. So softly that Joey almost missed the words, ranting as he was, but he was not yet so carried away as to miss even a syllable that dropped from the other's mouth. "I wasn't. I just..."  
  
He was so tired.  
  
So tired.  
  
Joey shifted uneasily.  
  
He wanted to leave, wanted to walk out of here, past those clear, painfully clear blue eyes, out and away from whatever was freezing Kaiba solid, icing him over in quartz and frost. He wanted to run. To slam a door between them and run until his legs and muscles and throbbing veins burned with exertion, until he'd burned out all memory of standing here helpless, until he'd scalded himself clean and raw and exhausted, because he didn't know if he could stand here any longer, watching Kaiba crumble.  
  
Watching, and unable to do anything.  
  
Can't always be there.  
  
"It's not like I have to come save you, Kaiba," he continued, a little roughly, "but you might try being a little more grateful. It kinda makes me wonder why I bothered, actually."  
  
"So why did you?"  
  
They dropped from his mouth, bitter and low, and had an incredible effect. He watched as Joey's eyes flashed and then deepened, their gleam dimmed behind a wall of bright shaggy hair as Joey looked down, away, out towards the window that gleamed darkly.  
  
For his part, Joey was caught in sudden struggle between his sense of the "truth" and what he'd been telling himself all along. I knew something was wrong, he told himself righteously.   
  
I can't let Kaiba stay in trouble just because he's a bastard. Can't not help him just because I don't like him.  
  
But the words rang hollowly in his head, overpowered by a sudden, painfully real memory of steaming water falling down on him, of holding up a limp, cold Kaiba, eyes half-lidded and lazy with cold and exhaustion, and in his vision he watched again water streaming through silky brown hair, over the delicate pale face, pinking translucent skin.  
  
And in his memory, Kaiba looked up, and he closed his eyes against the sudden blue and remembered bending down and pressing his lips to the cool ones beneath him, feeling the slight shudder that went through Kaiba's lean frame at the touch.  
  
And then the memory shifted, changed, and it was no longer a memory but only sensations, flicking across his eyelids in swathes of blue light. He imagined laying his hands on Kaiba's bare shoulders, pushing the other boy back onto the twisted sheets, imagined cool skin burning under his touch, imagined cool lips moving against his own. He thought about trailing his fingers along the path the water had taken, softly across pale planes of muscle and bone, watching as soft skin shivered beneath his touch, thought about the feel of warm sheets clustered beneath him as he settled down beside Kaiba, resting his hand lightly on the other's collarbone, tracing it delicately.  
  
And then he thought about those blue eyes opening, and flaring with heat, and imagined Kaiba lifting himself up on an elbow, taking Joey's face in one strong, long-fingered hand and crushing their lips together in a sudden storm of heat and flare and surging passion. He imagined falling back against soft sheets, his head thudding gently into a pillow with Kaiba's lean frame on top of him, his hands flattening against Kaiba's back, pulling him in, feeling fingers grip his hair and Kaiba's mouth moving desperately against his, hot and wet and---more---a lithe body writhing against his as each pressed himself further into the other, longing for more touch, more heat, more contact.  
  
And then he looked up, and saw that across the room, Kaiba was watching him, and his heart slammed into his throat.  
  
"I---" he stammered, looking wildly around the room, searching for something to say. Something to lever himself out of this unexpected scenario. "Jeez, Kaiba, of course I'm going to try and help, even if you are, you know, you. That's no reason for me to not try to help out if something's wrong.  
  
"And something is wrong, isn't it." He waited, although unsure as to what he was waiting for. Maybe for Kaiba to admit to a weakness, maybe for his mind to come to terms with what he'd just experienced.   
  
He longed, desperately, unexpectedly, to argue with Kaiba, to pit himself flush against the other boy, will against will, straining and burning and testing each other---something, anything to get away from the residual traces of heat that kept sparking through him---but Kaiba silent---Kaiba unsure---this was new. This was different, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to break the quiet, uneasy peace that had infiltrated the room.  
  
"I mean, come on, Kaiba. You missed school. You cut out the heat to your pool and almost killed yourself twice now. And I'm not saying you did it on purpose," he shifted, and ran a nervous hand through his hair, "but that's what happened and I figure I have a right to know why you're trying to destroy yourself."   
  
"I'm not trying anything of the sort," Kaiba said venomously, making an effort to surface from a swirling waking dream. Bright brown eyes looked up at him piercingly. "Not that you'd understand."  
  
"You'd be surprised," Joey muttered, looking back at the window. He could see himself, ghostly, in the glass, and wondered.  
  
"It wasn't your fault, you know."  
  
Seto looked at him, his eyes narrowing, his exhausted heart thudding a little faster in his chest, and he fought against the vertigo that suddenly swept the room. He didn't want to fall.  
  
He didn't want to---  
  
His own voice surprised him, rough and soft against the cooling air. "I don't know what you mean."  
  
Joey didn't turn, and now Seto looked past him, into the glass, into the dark swirling cold that flooded against the cool window.  
  
And shivered.  
  
What would have happened if Joey hadn't been there?  
  
He almost didn't notice that the other boy was speaking, words falling quietly, steadily from his mouth, like rain, like leaves, but he heard something about Owen Daniels and something else about it not being his fault that the guy was depressive and used to cut himself, and he thought he heard something to do with Daniels not being that badly hurt, and recovering well, but he felt exhaustion sinking through him and slid down against a wall, leaning his head back and letting Joey's voice continue uninterrupted, because it was low and soothing and a lifeline to the real world that was slowly fading away before his eyes.  
  
The voice paused, and he saw a dark shape move towards him slowly, leaning over him for a moment before bending down and shrinking into a dim blur in the surrounding darkness. He closed his eyes, feeling his breathing even, feeling a gentle lifting of weight from his chest, feeling the tremble of his muscles and feeling acutely the warm hand that hesitantly touched his forehead.  
  
Joey knelt in front of him, worried. He'd done his best to convey to Kaiba the meaning of what he'd been saying, but it seemed to have sunk in without any noticeable effect.  
  
"Kaiba?" he asked hesitantly, his eyes darting over the pale face before him. He reached out slowly, touched his palm gently against the other boy's forehead. He felt so cool.  
  
"Did you hear me?" he asked, edging a little closer and watching delicate eyelids flicker.  
  
Kaiba shifted a little. "I heard," he said, but didn't open his eyes. The darkness was so warm and comforting, and he didn't want to wake from it back into the real world yet. Wanted to stay free of businesses and disappointed little brothers and always trying to be the best, and then being better.  
  
For a little while, at least.  
  
"Look, Kaiba," Joey said, as gently as he could while fighting back a rising panic, "you still aren't exactly at the peak of health. I mean, geez," his fingers traveled lightly over a lock of silky hair that lay across the pale forehead, and he swallowed, hard. "Your hair is still damp, and everything."  
  
Kaiba didn't reply, but he didn't flinch away, either, and Joey's fingers didn't move away, but stayed instead stroking gently over loose strands of damp hair. He was thinking of falling drops of steaming water, of delicate skin pinked by the heat, of tangled sheets and a mouth pressed gently against his own, and when Kaiba opened his eyes, lazy with exhaustion and brilliant in the gloom, he didn't think and didn't talk but instead, moved his hand gently to the back of Kaiba's neck and moved forward to press his mouth against the softly sighing one before him.  
  
Slowly he kissed Kaiba, slow and deep and warm, sliding his hand up to tangle itself in the silky brown hair, pulling away only to lay his forehead against Kaiba's, feeling warm breath on his mouth and heat sparking suddenly deep in him and he moved forward again, only to be met with delicate long fingers that slid up his jaw and behind his head, gripping his hair and pulling him forward with more strength than he'd thought Kaiba was capable of, and his mouth was met by another demanding one, moving against his with a flaring urgency that sent flickers of heat shuddering through him and he pressed himself to Kaiba, on his knees now pulling the other boy against him and wrapping arms around the lean waist, feeling only hands and fingers and hot mouth against his, sliding his hands up Kaiba's smooth back and hearing a name, his name whispered softly into the warming darkness.  
  
And when Kaiba fell asleep with Joey's shirt as a pillow while Joey's fingers traced delicate patterns over the pale skin of his arms, Joey looked out at the window gleaming darkly, and saw their reflection dim in the darkness, and smiled.  
  
***  
  
Epilogue  
  
He woke in warm darkness, his eyes wide open and seeing nothing in the purple shadows, but he felt warm and relaxed and content, melting into soft, tumbled sheets and pillows, free for once of the shivering sense of wind wrapping around his legs and body and mind.  
  
A soft snore alerted him, and he sat up, blinking in the gloom until his eyes became used to it, and he could make out a long dark shape on the far side of the bed, lying over the sheets in crumpled clothes with one hand under a pillow, curled up into itself so as to take up as little room as possible.  
  
Seto looked at the figure for a long moment, feeling awake as he hadn't in days, feeling relaxed as he hadn't in months. Years. Questions rose in his sudden clarity of mind, noisy, tumultuous, asking what was going, on, asking what would happen, asking what he felt and thought and why, looking at the sleeping boy near him, he was aware of only warmth and life and welcoming darkness lulling him back into sleep.  
  
So he lay back down, and closed his eyes, and slept again, feeling gentle fingers smooth over his forehead and a low voice over the howling of the wind, which could not get in.  
  
***  
  
Aria: *long pause* Well. I suppose that's it, folks. The end of this particular story, if you will, but I can promise you that there will be a sequel. I just can't work it into this chapter, but it's there and I need to write it. What happens when they wake up? How will they come to grips with their new relationship? What will the others think? I'm sorry if any of you are disappointed in this ending, but I promise I'll be back soon to continue with this story. I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, without whom this tale would never have been finished. 


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